The Girl in the Tower 2: Home by the Sea
by SpookyMulder
Summary: Seven years after the end of The Girl in the Tower, Harry, Sara, and Draco find that things don't always turn out as planned.
1. Chapter 1: The Art of Reacquaintance

The Girl in the Tower 2: Seasons of Discontent Ch. 1: The Art of Reacquaintance

**bPART 1: SEVEN YEARS**

_**C**__**ha**__**p**__**ter 1: The Art o**__**f**__** R**__**e**__**ac**__**q**__**uaintance /B**_

The china. The crystal. The napkin rings and the painted vases. Something inside him wanted to smash every last bit of it. The artwork and the sculptures. The lovely rose and violet sprays that dotted the table. The centerpieces. The silverware, the butter dishes, and the chandeliers. He wanted to toss every gleaming suit of armor into a giant, clattering heap of brass and broken plumage in the center of the floor. He wanted to topple the cabinets, the hutches, and sidebars. Shatter the mirrors. Rip the drapes from the windows. Then, only upending the tables and tearing the elegant tapestries from the walls might calm this helpless frustration. It festered where it lived in darkness, nestled, restless, in a little room somewhere deep inside where he kept all the anger and the rage.

Harry walked with a languid pace, barely moving, his hands clasped behind his back as though he were strolling through the park on a warm summer day. The amber glow of the fires that surrounded him lay soft on his glasses, giving a spark of light to his pained and troubled eyes. The scarlet silk of a fine, immaculate tablecloth was cool beneath his touch and Harry sighed, profound and exhausted. This wasn't what his life was supposed to be.

He knew she was there without hearing her enter. Without the sound of her voice or the whispered rustle of fabric as she stood in the doorway. He simply i_felt/I_ her presence. A presence that had once been the very air that he breathed. It had been the remedy for the storm that raged inside. Now, it had become the source of it.

Her words were gentle, uncertain, and laced with trepidation. "Are you coming to bed?"

Harry's eyes found the far wall, unable to look at her. His back to the place in which she stood. "I don't know."

Sara's voice was small and wounded when she spoke again, and it pained him to hear it. "It's our i_anniversary." /I_

Harry said nothing.

"You were distant at dinner. Our guests were worried.i_ I/I_ was worried."

"I wasn't feeling well."

"That's what you said i_last/I_ year."

Something enormous, and heavy with sadness, curled in his chest. He knew she was trying not to cry and his voice was little more than a whisper. "Goodnight, Sara."

It was a long moment before she responded. There were so many things that she wanted to say, this he knew, but in the end, she didn't say them. He felt her eyes on his back and knew that they had run with tears. She left in silence, taking a piece of his misery with her.

Harry sighed his relief. He knew Sara thought he no longer loved her. She was wrong about that, but he didn't know how to tell her when this pain was all he knew. Without thought, he touched the ring on his finger, the one she'd placed there seven years before. Back before they'd learned the i_truth/I_ that time could reveal. When they were naive enough to think that love ruled all, when they were blinded by ignorance and foolish enough to believe the heart was wiser than the mind. When fulfilling the need of each other was i_all/I_ that mattered.

Harry closed his eyes with the bittersweet ache of memory. Sara had been a vision on that day. She was radiant, resplendent and I_beautiful_,_ /I_ aglow in her white dress as he smiled through his happiness. She'd returned his smile as she vowed to love him forever and he'd thought that there was nothing else in the world except her hand in his. To look upon her face and know that she meant every word of it was the very I_meaning/I_ of solace. The honesty in her eyes held the means to pacify his soul through all eternity. At least that's what he'd thought I_then_._ /I_ They'd been barely more than children, after all. Children who refused to believe that things had changed.

He'd chosen to ignore the darkness that hid behind her eyes, that shadow of decimation that could never truly leave her. In her time away, Sara had discovered a rift in her own mind that would never heal. It lay dormant in her still, secret, waiting until the day it could consume her once again. Harry feared that day like no other. He almost expected it, dreading each evening, as the streak in her hair grew wider, he'd awake to find her gone. Or worse, still there beside him.

Harry sighed again, pulled a chair out from the table, and fell into it. That wasn't fair. Sara didn't deserve to be thought of that way, especially by him. She'd kept all of her promises. She was good to him as she'd always been. She still loved him, this he knew, but something had distanced them in the past seven years, something had died, dried up, withered, or gone out. Something important. I_Integral_._ /I_ Something they I_needed/I_ the way a flame needs fuel, lest it fade to ashes, as even the strongest of bonds needs something to hold it fast. That something, Harry thought, was passion. Not the physical sort, but the kind that drives the soul to desire beyond its boundaries, to want more, to pursue life with a zest for excitement and new experience. The sort of passion that embraces a rampant imagination, adventure, mystique, and the pursuit of knowledge with the deepest of human curiosity. Their lives held none of those things anymore, not on any level. Their lives had become nothing more than the non-exuberant dust of domesticity and boredom.

Time ticked off on his father's watch, the only sound in the room besides that of his own breathing, and Harry fell back in his chair. His hands twisted in his lap as guilt seeped through him at the thought of Sara. He had hurt her earlier. He'd known it even as he'd done it, but was helpless to stop it. He didn't know why he was cold to her, why she was hesitant to touch him anymore, or why they took their meals in silence. He didn't understand where the wall between them had come from, or how to tear it down. Sometimes he wasn't sure he wanted to, but right now, his heart ached for her forgiveness. He'd never intended to be cruel to Sara. He'd never wanted to do anything except love her I_completely._ _/I_

He could feel her sorrow, her desperation, and it stirred his compassion. He knew she suffered because of him and he rose from his chair. She was his wife after all, and this was the anniversary of what was once the happiest day of his life. It was the anniversary of the day the black streak went away. The day Malfoy had finally given up. A hint of a smile touched his lips at this thought and Harry crossed the dark rooms in search of his heart's desire.

*****************************************************

Lightning illuminated the city in a blinding flash and Draco remained expressionless as he watched the rain through the window of a second storey room. Never had there been a room that held such safety, such refuge, as his childhood bedroom. The only room that had ever come close was Sara's tower at Hogwarts. That had been a place of denial and restraint, but also of total acceptance and comfort. Now it stood empty and he was left with only this. Here, in the place he had once found the greatest asylum, he could hide from the world once more. No one knew where he was.

Christina thought he was away on business in Europe. The fact was, there I_was/I_ no business. He had no high-ranking and important job, no private enterprise, as he had told her, not even a purpose of the most insignificant kind. He had been here the entire duration, and every time he'd left her before this. Not in another country. Simply on the other side of London.

Draco sighed and clasped his hands easy in front as the rain painted the windows, wondering what was wrong with him. Christina was wonderful. She was understanding in a manner only one other person he'd known had been, and caring in the most gentle of ways. She made it easy for him to escape, and guilt invaded him on occasion, though it did not send him back to his house on the hill. At last, he understood why Sara had stayed away for so long all those years ago. Finally, he knew what it meant to fear home.

As they always did, his eyes wandered to the old, outdated picture beside the bed. Reframed and taped together, looking at it still produced a quiet ache in his soul. No words could describe how he _missed_ her. He missed the warmth of her smile, the comfort of her voice in his ear, and the light her genuine sincerity brought to the darkest corners of his being. Looking at her, even just her image, still awoke all of his senses and flooded him with emotions he couldn't ignore or even subdue. He could still feel her arms around him, could still smell her perfume, and Draco sighed as he heard her words echo through his mind. I_Come dance with me…_ _/I_ Sara had been _his_ on that copasetic night and the memory of it was a cherished place in his mind where he often lingered, blissful torture though it was. Sara was a flame inside him that chased the darkness from his heart. A flame that would never go out, he feared, until the day he died.

The candles flickered as he made his way across the room. The sconces came to life, casting a cold glow in the cold halls and throwing familiar shadows on the floor. Many doors he passed, all shut and concealing room after room of furniture covered with white sheets and nearly a decade of dust. Malfoy Manor was no longer a vision of dark glory.

What he sought was near the front of the house, a place he rarely ventured, and the idea of it filled him with anxious fear. Draco pushed his hair back with a hand that trembled, and then lingered over the Amidon he still wore around his neck. He felt its warmth, steadfast against his chest, and savored the serenity that glowed within him. Memories swept across his mind's eye, the silk of her hair beneath his hand, the low-voltage of her gentle touch, the heated caress of her breath against his neck. Draco crossed the expanse of the lobby, his nervous hands again clasped in front, firm and with less than his usual diplomatic air.

Years before he'd had the portrait moved from the corridor it once menaced, to the place where his father had spent his final breath in the presence of beauty. He'd never really thought about it before, but it was a good way for Lucius to die, better than any fate that had awaited him, Draco was sure. He could only hope that, when he left this world, he could do it so peacefully, with such a vision of natural grace, a sensation of perfect solace, to take to his grave.

*****************************************************

Harry entered the room in silence, leaving the shadows for the dim flicker of a single candle. She stood alone at the windows, open to the warm August breeze that drifted in, tainted by the scent of the ocean. Moonlight clung to her, a satin shimmer aglow on her skin and in the gossamer silk of her nightgown. Sara was a beautiful creature, he thought, a porcelain vision in the darkness. She was the essence of the enchantment of night.

Sara sighed and turned away when he wandered in. Her shoulders slumped and she lowered her eyes. Harry's gentle hand caressed her face, turning her back to face him. His expression was heavy with guilt and apology and Sara hid her anger. It was only sadness that he saw, like a shadow behind her eyes, and Harry wondered why she stayed with him. Why she didn't yell at him or voice her discontent. He wondered as her hand touched his cheek, as her arm went around his back and he held her in a close embrace. He wondered why she returned his kiss, why she slipped her fingers through his hair, smoothing the tangles until it flowed over his shoulder. He wondered why she didn't push him away as he lifted the little nightslip over her head, or when he lowered her to the coverlet. Instead, she pulled him closer and as he climbed onto the bed, Sara met him with a passionate kiss.

The answer to all his questions came in a breathless whisper.

i_"I love you," /I_ she said.

*****************************************************

The dungeons were so_ Idark/I_ this time of night. He tended to keep torches burning between his quarters and his classroom, but unfortunately, they didn't extend to the first floor. Shuffling along the pitch-black corridor with only his wand for light, Severus wondered why he'd left his rooms. He wasn't hungry really, far from it after the evening's I_festivities, /I_ but food would work as a fine substitute for this seldom-felt need for companionship. Well, at least it I_used to be/I_ seldom. Not so much anymore.

He I_missed/I_ her, and it killed him to know it. He didn't I_wan/I_ _t_ to miss her, of that he was certain, but Severus hadn't known a woman's touch for too many years. He had I_no choice/I_ but to miss her.

Sylvia wasn't the prettiest witch he'd ever seen, nor could she hold a candle to Diana Lemke, but she looked at him the way no other woman did and that made him set her apart. She was different, yet so akin to his nature that it was almost frightening. Sylvia could match him insult for insult, scowl for scowl, and still delight him with her laughter. She was the substance that filled his idle time, the thought that kept a low smile hiding behind his eyes through every long and monotonous day. At least, he sighed, she I_used to be. /I_ Now she was nothing more than a memory that left him in need of constant sustenance.

The kitchens were sure to be quite this time of night, but he was hopeful that he could scare something up for himself. A little ambrosia maybe, though he thought he may have finished that the previous night. Dinner had not been served, as everyone had gone to the party, but perhaps there would be a few leftovers from whatever Argus'd had for his evening meal. Hopefully, whatever he managed to find, there would be a _lot_ of it. He had a void to fill, after all.

Snape scowled at I_The Daily Prophet, /I_ left open on the table and abandoned. "I see there's no longer a need toI _clean up after ourselves/I_ anymore, is there?" Snape asked the empty kitchen. When an echo of his own voice was the only reply, Snape took the paper and sat down in his usual place, the need for food forgotten.

**BVacancy in Diagon Alley/b**

_IDue to the sudden death of the late Ely Toadbucket, the three businesses he owned in Diagon Alley have been closed by Gringott's Bank and the locations will be sold, individually, to the highest offer. For more details, or to place a bid, contact Gringott's Bank. Mr. Toadbucket's widow, Irma…./I_

Snape turned the page, bored, his eye landing on nothing of interest.

**BFall Hits the Runway/b**

_IMadam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions is pleased to present, again this year, the Autumn Fashion show. New lines featuring designs by Ralph Snoren, Tommy Hillmonger, and Valentini. Glimpse the hot new styles before they hit stores! Madam Malkin forecasts a more renaissance look in this year's robes, with an emphasis on richer fabrics and small-stitched detail…/I_

**BOvercrowding at Azkaban/b**

_IWith the recent incarceration of the Salazar 7, Azkaban Prison has officially exceeded its recommended maximum capacity. Cells are now multi-wizard accommodations, meant for, generally, one prisoner. Dementor count has not increased, however, and some Ministry officials are concerned. We spoke with Ashen Pyre, an overseer from the Ministry of Magic's Dept of Detainment, who still shudders at the memory of the Sirius Black escape…/I_

Severus scanned the pages, disgusted with the lack of news since the demise of Voldemort. He was about ready to proclaim _himself_ a dark lord and run amuk just so there was something to read after dinner. With headlines like I_The Western European Owl Show/I_ and I_Witch Weekly's Beauty Pageant Changes Venue/I, _any sane person could lose their mind from boredom.With a sigh, the paper folded itself.

Severus had entered the kitchens looking for a late "snack," but left without it. There were things that lay heavy on his mind lately, Sylvia's anger of course, and the constant absence of Draco Malfoy. He'd gone to the house on the hill many times over the past few months, (and years,) looking to visit his old pupil, only to find him not at home. Christina always looked to him with sadness in her eyes and a string of what he was certain were untruths and these she seemed to believe completely. It worried him that Draco would lie to Christina, vanish for months at a time, and tell no one where he'd gone or with what he was involved.

Then there was the other thing that bothered him, which had been driven to the forefront tonight.

It was the same old story. Another anniversary dinner at the Potter residence, which he attended every year and not because he wanted to, had been uncomfortable and awkward. This was the third year in a row that the Potters had been distant and their smiles false. Tonight had been the worst so far, however, and everyone went home early. The two hardly spoke. Potter stared off into space and hadn't touched his dinner. Snape had wanted to venture to the head of the table and slap him around a bit, but somehow managed to restrain himself. Sara, on the other hand, acted her part, but there was such sadness in her eyes, such listlessness in her conversation, that she would not leave his mind, even at this late hour.

It would help, he though as he walked the cold corridors, if she got out of the house for more than shopping. She was bored, as was Potter, but Potter was not his concern at the moment. (or I_ever, /I_ for that matter) Sara needed something with substance, something to look forward to and to occupy her mind.

Snape thought on it as he traversed the dungeons. She was an auror, but that line of work didn't really suit her. He imagined that was why she didn't seek employment as one. It was only to gain skill. She could change the weather, but there wasn't much she could do with _that_. She was also a master diviner. A very, very rare talent often feigned by imposters.

Snape smiled and entered his quarters. His sleek black owl greeted him from its perch and he scowled at it. "Spooky." he warned_,I "Be quiet!" /I_

The ebony bird gave an annoyed hoot and turned its head. Snape took off his boots, placed them neatly together by the door, and poured himself a nightcap consisting of brandy and a light sleeping potion. He sipped it, not wanting to lose focus just yet. His eyes fell on the tiny, careworn desk against the wall and he went to it, something he rarely found cause to do.

"Spooky!" he sneered over his shoulder, "Come here. I have a letter for you to deliver."

The bird glanced at him, and then turned its head in completely the other direction, making no move to leave its perch.

Snape raised his commanding voice. "I hear they're serving I_BLACK_ _OWL SOUP/I_ tomorrow for dinner."

Spooky flew into the other room.

Snape opened the door to the hall, held the letter by one corner, and gave the owl one last meaningful glare. With reluctance, Spooky took flight. The letter she grasped with her beak, but before flying off, she snagged two tufts of Snape's stringy black hair in her talons and gave them a good, quick tug.

"GET I_OFF!" /I_

The bird was gone and Snape swatted empty air, cursing his owl and slamming the door. With a few grumbled threats that no one heard, he returned to the small, threadbare couch and took up with his drink, propping his sock feet on the low table. The fire roared to life with a wave of his wand and Severus smiled, already anticipating the answer he hoped would come sooner than later.

*****************************************************

She was warm, comforting. His arms were around her and her back pressed close against his chest, closer than they had been in months. She slept on his shoulder and getting out of this position without waking her up would be a challenge, but one Harry was determined to accomplish.

The bird had already dropped the letter, so there was no immediacy to his getting out of bed. Lucky for him, because Sara turned and wrapped her arms around him with a mumbled whisper and a sleep-laden smile. Harry stiffened and Sara awoke just long enough to realize he was trying to get away from her. She rolled to the far side of the bed and put her back to him.

Harry sighed. Not the outcome he'd wanted, but he was now free to pretend he was asleep for a few minutes, wait for Sara's breathing to slow, and then creep from the bed.

Harry had the most comfortable slippers in all of England, but found he did his best sneaking around while barefoot. The floor was warm beneath his feet, even though the late August sun had set hours before, and Harry padded across it in silence. The letter waited on the desk and he broke the seal with as little noise as possible.

_IHarry,_

_I'm sorry to bother you at this late hour, but something told me you were up. I'm a bit of a night owl myself, and I could use a friend right now. I need to talk to you. Would you mind coming by? If it's too late, or this letter finds you already in bed, then your earliest convenience will do. I don't mean to impose. I'm terribly sorry for this, but I can think of no one else who will give me an honest opinion in this matter._

_PS: Please give Sara my thanks and my apologies. Dinner was wonderful. Sorry I had to leave so early. It was very nice of you both to invite me._

_Hope to hear from you soon,_

_Christina/I_

To say he was surprised would be an understatement. Until dinner tonight, he hadn't seen Chris in months, maybe once or twice since last year's wretched anniversary dinner. She had come alone yet again, claiming Draco was away on business, and Harry wondered what manner of 'business' Malfoy was involved in. She had arrived in Draco's limo, full of false cheer, and had been the first to leave. He recalled her reason was that she was "incredibly tired," yet here she was, still up at nearly midnight and claiming to be a night owl. His curiosity led him to the garage and the old Jaguar he still loved to drive. (It now sat beside Sara's new purple Viper, the SUV long gone.)

Still fearful of waking Sara, he touched the worn port key he'd purchased in Hogsmead ages ago, waiting to start the engine until he was beside the field that would forever remind him of Draco. It saddened him to know the old workhorse was long dead. He missed its familiarity, leaning its tired neck over the wire fence to get at the long grass on the other side. It was disheartening to realize how much had changed, and how little of it was for the better. It was with this thought that Harry gunned the motor and sped off toward London.

*****************************************************

Sara lay awake on her side of the bed, wondering if Harry thought he fooled her. Did he think she didn't notice when he crept away? When he used the port key? The absence he left was still acute. Her intuition had never dulled. Yes, she knew he had left the house and imagined that if she bothered to venture to the garage, she would find his beat up old car gone. It occurred to her that she didn't care where he'd run off to, or even if he would bother to return. Sometimes it seemed a lonely life would be easier than the one they lived. It was easier than knowing he would leave their bed if she touched him, or that he would pretend to sleep if she wanted to talk. It was easier than knowing that the man she had pledged her life to no longer loved her.

Anger seeped through her and she did her best to push it away. Rolling onto her back, Sara stared with open eyes at the ceiling in the dark, charmed, like the great hall at Hogwarts, to look like the night sky. Her mind drifted back to the days before the darkness had broken her, before everything had changed, to the times when the relationships she'd had were simple and clear-cut. The lines unblurred.

There was another sky, from a long ago starlit winter night, that remained a cherished memory. A stolen moment kept safe in a secret little room inside her heart. It was a place she returned to more and more often over the years, and it became her only solace when her marriage held none. Sara wondered what her life would have been like if she'd taken the uncertain path and married Draco. It was a horrible thing to ponder, this she knew, but back then, in the days of the Yule Ball, classes, and school houses, she had felt such desires for Draco that to be near him was often dangerous. She had wanted to surrender to them so many times, to calm the upheaval inside her and end the suffering she saw reflected in his eyes. She'd loved Draco more than she could ever comprehend, but she'd always loved Harry a little bit more. What she'd felt for Harry was certain, undeniable, and enough to keep her faithful. Harry's spiraling indifference, however, was softening her resolve.

Sara couldn't help but wonder I_what/I_ he was thinking sometimes. During their anniversary dinner tonight, Harry had been despondent yet again. After the guests had left he'd become cold and withdrawn. His disinterest in spending time with her was harsh and cruel and Sara was growing tired of living such a lie. She was tired of tiptoeing around his constant mood swings, none of which were happy. Tired of being tossed from one emotion to the other. Did he know how it affected her to be ignored, and then crushed to pieces by a few well-chosen words, only to encounter a gentle and apologetic version of her husband minutes later? Did it even occur to him that she might be deeply upset by being pushed away as she slept? The intimacy they'd shared tonight was wonderful, meaningful, heartfelt, and beyond welcome. It had been months since they'd been close and Sara was confused by the love she'd felt in his touch. If he still had such intense feeling for her, then why slip away in the darkness? Why did the warmth of her embrace not keep him beside her? Harry had loved her more than anything once, of this she was certain, but it seemed that sort of love filled his heart seldom these past few years. It was difficult to see how he was drifting away, and the fact that he allowed it to happen left her hurt and angry. Sara sighed and climbed from the bed, wondering if maybe letting it all fall to pieces was the better choice.

Sara ignored her slippers, but let her eyes linger on the mirror's reflection as she passed through to the hall. She was too thin, she thought, and her expression was troubled as she studied her appearance. It was the black streak that depressed her the most. It had left her once, on the happiest day of her life, only to return four years later, a dark reminder that things can change. It had grown since Harry had come to their bed and Sara turned away from the mirror, consumed by her misery.

*****************************************************

"Well? Are you just going to sit there and stare at me all night? I realize that I'm quite striking, but I have things to do, you understand."

"How can a I_painting/I_ have things to do? That's ridiculous."

"For your information, I happen to be hanging in the bedchamber of a rather attractive young lady I once met while on buisiness in Liverpool. I can honestly say I prefer that portrait overI _this/I_ one."

Draco sighed. "Even yourI _portrait/I_ is a lousy father."

"Now now, Draco. You're twice as loathsome and pathetic as usual. Must you always be so discontent?"

"I don't exactly have a perfect life, you know. No thanks to you. "

"What is it I_this/I_ time?" Lucius rolled his eyes and checked an oil paint pocket watch. I_"Whatever/I_ it is, I would appreciate the short version."

Draco clasped his hands in his lap and dropped his eyes to them as he sat on the sofa in his father's study. "I don't really know."

Lucius gave him an amused smile. "Yes, rather difficult to forget, isn't she?"

Draco sighed at the mention of Sara. "Why did you go after her the way you did? Was it genuine? Or was it because you couldn't stand the fact that I had something so beautiful and you didn't?"

"Well, if you must know, it had nothing to do with you. You've always been excessively vain, Draco. Your mother tried to warn me, but then again, she said the same of me." Lucius sighed, resigned to answer his son's idiotic questions. "Why do you ask?"

"You know, I can trace everything that has gone wrong in my life back to you. My darkness, my loneliness, my inability to relate to my peers."

"A Malfoy has no peers."

"My poisoned mind, my poisoned name, my repellent personality. Let's not forget my unending misery."

"Such I_trivial/I_ sacrifices often have to be made when one is the product of a long line of greatness."

"I am the product of madness and evil."

"Perhaps," Lucius smiled, "but also of greatness."

"How can you call it I_greatness/I_ when it's so easily decimated by something as simple as love for girl? I think it's time we Malfoys ceased to be so disillusioned. We aren't I_great, /I_ Father. We're I_malignant." /I_

"You weren't I_always/I_ such a sniveling wretch. There was a time, in your younger years, when I was proud of the son I had. Unfortunately, those days are long past."

"I was once proud of the I_father/I_ I had as well. Until the day my eyes were opened to what you really were. I don't think I can ever forgive you for what you've done to me. For the way you've made me suffer."

Lucius seethed. "I handed you the keys to the kingdom and you didn't have the integrity to use what you had to your advantage," he hissed, I_"You were a mistake." /I_

Draco stared at the portrait, the words like daggers in his chest, and Lucius left him without waiting for a reply.

*****************************************************

"It's not your father, Draco. Not really."

"Sara!" Draco spun around, surprised to find himself no longer alone. "How did you get here? How did you _get in?"_

Sara held up the little box containing a tiny silver serpent. "Port key, of course. Lucius gave it to me, nearly ten years ago now. I don't know why I kept it," she admitted, "I probably should have returned it to you long ago."

Draco rose from his seat, at a loss for words. He simply stared at her in disbelief.

Sara smiled at his expression. "It's good to see you."

I_"Yes."_ _/I_ Draco said the only thing he could manage, overcome by too many emotions. It had been a long time since he'd seen her last, at least five or six months, and nothing could ease his sadness with such I_momentous/I_ perfection.

Still smiling, Sara stepped toward him and held out the box containing the port key.

Draco took her hand and closed her fingers over it. "Keep it," he smiled, "Let it be a reminder to visit me more often."

Sara returned his smile and hid the serpent in the folds of her robe. She longed to throw her arms around him, to feel his arms around her as well, but she was a married woman now. It wouldn't be proper. Instead, the embrace was light and friendly, though it lingered.

Draco grinned when he looked at her. "Were you finally planning to spend the night with me? I'm sure the highly improbable I_mister_ _/I_ Potter might have something to say about that."

Sara glanced down at her short little nightgown and turned red with embarrassment. "It, um… never occurred to me to change."

"I'm sure Freud would take an interest in that."

Sara blushed and decided to change the subject. "Draco? What are you doing here? Christina thinks you're in China. "

"Don't tell her otherwise."

"The price for my silence is high."

"Then I shall have to kill you."

Sara grinned. "If you must. But the least you could do is fix me a good strong drink first."

"How strong?"

"Let's just say that dying requires little concentration." There was no humor in her smile, no light behind her eyes.

Draco realized Sara was troubled and the knowledge softened his manner. "How did you know where to find me? Did you know I was here?"

"I didn't. I came to speak to Lucius, actually, only I found him preoccupied."

Draco turned on her with surprise in his eyes and an open bottle in his hand. "You did?"

Sara sighed and her misery filled the room. "To talk to I_anyone/I_ really." She gave a half-hearted laugh and it was a terrible sound. "He was the only one who I was sure would still be up."

"But you found I_me, /I_ instead," Draco tried to smile, "Lucky for you."

The sadness that creased her brow vanished as if it had never really been there at all. "I see you're still charmingly arrogant, even after all these months."

"I never change that quickly."

Sara took the proffered drink and turned to him as he took a seat next to her on the couch. Again, she sighed and sipped it before leaning back against the soft leather. "It feels like I_at least/I_ two years."

"Is I_that/I_ all?" Draco defended, pretending to be supremely insulted in the hopes of making her smile. "I should rate at least I_ten/I_ years, but no, she says it only feels like TWO!"

"Well," Sara laughed, "maybe two and a half."

"Five."

"Ok, five."

Draco drank from his glass and then showed her his sly, I_I'm about to be funny/I_ grin. "And I want you to know, I didn't miss you one bit."

"You already said that you did."

"I did not."

Sara sighed again. It was profound and heavy with resignation. "I wouldn't blame you for not missing me."

The smile fell from Draco's face. "What do you mean? I_Of course/I_ I've missed you!"

"All those years I thought I was being so kind to you, Draco, but I was never kind at all, was I? I knew how you felt while we were at school, I knew that what you felt was deep and sincere, and that I had no intensions of breaking it off with Harry. It took me ten years to understand, but we never should have been friends. I should have kept my distance."

"Why? I mean, I can't imagine those last two years without you, but I_why/I_ were you my friend? As much as I coveted your company, I never understood the depth of our friendship. You were so determined to be with Potter, but I always felt like you loved me, even then. I had never felt so emotionally close to another person, there was such affection and understanding between us, and yet you denied me at every turn. It was confusing. It was agony."

"That is exactly my point. I became your friend because I saw your inner struggle and it filled me with basic human compassion. I I_remained/I_ your friend for the most selfish of reasons. I should have walked away and let you forget me, but I allowed my predisposition to overthrow reason. I saw the anguish in your eyes everyday, but I was too stupid to realize that all I wanted was to see how close I could get to the flame without getting burned. Denying you was a challenge, Draco. A stupid game I didn't know I was playing, always trying to convince myself that my feelings ran no deeper than friendship when I knew that it was more than that. I also knew that I would never leave Harry. I played with your heart to see what would happen and I'm sorry for every hurt I've ever caused you. I never deserved to be your friend."

"Oh shut-up. Enough of this nonsense already. School was a million years ago. Who cares about adolescent indugences anymore? You're here I_now, /I_ aren't you?"

Sara gave him a pained smile and let her hand caress his face, her voice but a whisper. "I've I_missed_ _/I_ you, Draco."

Draco returned the gesture and kissed her cheek.

With that, Sara burst into tears.

*****************************************************

She was miserable when the door opened and had been crying, it appeared, for at least an hour. Harry's smile slipped from his face and he stepped inside without waiting for verbal invitation. "What did he do I_this/I_ time?"

"Nothing," she said as her face creased with misery, "Nothing I_at all_."_ /I_

"I don't think I understand."

Christina took his wrist in her hand. "Would you stay a while, Harry? I can explain, but I think you need to hear all of it. Even though I can count the number of times I've seen Draco in the past few years on my fingers, there's a lot more to the story than that."

"There always is with him."

"Sit down then? I'll make us some tea."

"I'll get the tea," Harry offered and held up his wand, "It doesn't take as long."

Christina acquiesced with a grateful smile and moved to the sofa as they passed into the sitting room. She hadn't really wanted to prolong their talk with something as tedious as waiting for water to boil. Also, it was interesting, the way Harry was so nonchalant with the way he failed to hide his magical ability. After seven years with Draco, it seemed they had all become accustomed to her silent, trustable nature. Christina's smile broadened.

Harry set the tea tray on the table and spoke as he served her. "You were quiet at the party tonight. I wondered what was on your mind."

"You were I_beyond/I_ quiet, Harry. I feel terrible bothering you with my problems when it's clear that you have your own."

"You're I_not/I_ bothering me. I'm glad you sent the raven."

"Then perhaps I should tell you why I did."

Harry relaxed back into the cushions and sipped his Earl Grey. "Whenever you're ready. There's no hurry."

Christina held her cup too tightly, she bit her lip and it was clear that she struggled with what to say next.

Harry, sensing her anxiety, set his cup down and looked at her. "How's the tea? Did I do ok?"

"It's very good," she tried to smile, though her hands shook as she held cup to saucer, producing a minute clatter that was close to deafening in such a tense room, full of discomfort. "You did just fine."

Harry rose from his seat and wandered the room, glancing once at some old, forgotten Malfoy, asleep in his frame, before moving on to something else. "You know, Draco always hated muggles, non-magic that is, so when he developed a fascination for them, it took all of us by surprise. Of course, he always kept quiet about it, but I caught him at it too many times to count." Harry stopped before a large Muggle Music Player that must have cost a fortune, as even the smaller version that Harry owned was expensive. He ran a finger over the smooth, lustrous surface before lifting the lid with the hopes of finding something among the considerable inventory that would suit the present. "Malfoy started frequenting a club in the city our last year of school. It was a muggle place, but many of the other Hogwarts students would go there during holiday. His family was so anti-muggle that we were all shocked when he turned up."

Harry found something he liked and drew his wand. "And he began to collect things. He bought a daiquiri machine and you'd think it was made of gold, the way he marveled over it. He started receiving catalogues from muggle stores, eating in muggle restaurants, drinking soda I_constantly_,_ /I_ buying strange odds and ends, like a typewriter and salad tongs. Many others of our kind share the same curiosity, but in him, it was unexpected to say the least. Then I could never claim to understand the inner workings of Draco Malfoy."

Christina's cup still issued a quiet clamor in her hands and she set it down beside Harry's, allowing the room to fall into deafening silence. To his surprise, she spoke.

"I often wonder if maybe I was just another part of that fascination. I don't hold it against him, I want you to know that, but I can't help feeling that way sometimes. Especially when I know that he lies to me. When I don't see him for months at a time. When you sleep night after night in an empty bed, it's easy to believe you are no longer wanted, just a part of a collection, or some sort of pet that he looks in on when the spirit moves him. I don't mean to sound ungrateful or bitter. Draco has saved me in so many ways, but there comes a point when a person recognizes neglect for what it is. I feel neglected. Forgotten. But I am the least of my worries."

Soft, rich music issued from across the room, somber, and just loud enough to hear. The instruments were mellow gold and the sounds of them set her at ease. Christina sighed and her voice lost its edge. "I'm afraid for him, Harry."

Harry crossed the room and sat down beside her. He took her hand in a comforting gesture. "We've basically gotten used to that feeling."

*****************************************************

"Snape is worried about you, did you know?" Sara paced before the empty fireplace, "he thinks you're up to no good."

"Well? What do I_you/I_ think?"

Sara ignored the question with a decisive sigh and sipped her drink. "Why did you lie to Christina about where you've been going? I hardly see the point in coming up with something so far-fetched when you're sitting alone in your family home." Sara's eyes widened with realization. "You I_are/I_ alone, aren't you?"

"No," Draco smirked, enjoying the horrified expression that crossed her face. "I'm not alone."

"You aren't?"

"Nope. I_You're/I_ here."

Sara laughed her relief, shattering the silence, out of place in the vast and empty old mansion. "You're such a jerk."

At this, Draco's grin widened. "Just figuring that out? It only took you about nine years."

"I'd say that I simply overlooked it."

"Well," Draco sighed, "I I_am/I_ a jerk. Just ask Chris. I'm sure she's of the same opinion by now."

"When are you going to talk to her?" Sara's eyes once again grew serious, the light of mirth fading from her eyes. "You've left her, you know."

"I have?" Draco thought for a moment, considering it as though it was a concept that had never crossed his mind. Realization creased his brow and he sipped his drink absently. "I have, haven't I?"

What's going on with you? There was a time when we told each other everything."

"We never told each other I_everything!" /I_

"True, we've always had our secrets, but I have to say, I've told you more than I've ever told anyone. You've always confided in me, too. You are still my closest friend. If you're in trouble then you need to tell me."

"I'm not in trouble," Draco sighed, "not really. Not in the way that you think. I just… I don't know. I can't go back there. She's done nothing wrong. I haven't told her because she has nowhere else to go."

"That's an excuse. Tell me what's I_really/I_ going on."

"I can't even begin to explain how I feel. I don't want to hurt her. She's done nothing wrong, like I said, but I get so I can't stand her presence." Draco stood and clasped his hands hard in front, turning to stare at an old painting with an air of ease and disinterest. "I care for her, Sara, but she's not the one for me."

Sara said nothing.

"I would give her the house and everything in it if I thought she'd accept it. She won't. That's why she's there and I'm here."

"You removed yourself from your life?"

"It was easiest that way. No one gets hurt except me."

Sara touched his arm and his hands fell aside as he turned. He saw a reflection of his own apathy mirrored in her expression and he understood that she would always be the person who knew exactly how he felt, and how deep his emotions could run. Sara was the only one that knew exactly who he was, what he was made of, and how to make it all seem unimportant with a simple embrace.

Having his arms around her was a feeling he could never forget, it visited him in dreams, and haunted his waking hours, and Draco thought he had never felt such relief. Her warmth melted something that had frozen inside him as the Amidon sent sensations of love and security through him in waves of comfort. Her chin rested with familiar perfection in the place where his neck and shoulder met, and her soft breath sent electric shivers trickling down his spine. It was exactly as he remembered it, not a single detail had changed over the years, and he clung to her the way he had once before. In the little room beneath her house where the vampire slept, when he though he might never see her again. Seven years later, he found he still had the same fear.

18


	2. Chapter 2: Sandwiches

The Girl in the Tower 2: Seasons of Discontent Ch. 2: Sandwiches

**BPART 1: SEVEN YEARS**

_**C**__**ha**__**p**__**ter 2: Sandwiches/B**_

It was a day that felt more like autumn than the end of summer. The air was damp from the night's rain, the sky was gunmetal gray, the wind was whipping in off the channel, and Harry was chilled to the bone. Sara, however, had every window in the place wide open. It was to the clamor of slamming that she awoke.

"Could you possibly be just a little I_louder?"/I_ she angered as she sat up to watch him climb onto one sill after another, grabbing the double panes, and yanking them hard into their frames.

"Could you I_possibly/I_ open a few more windows? It's I_freezing/I_ out in case you didn't notice! You know, you're not the only one that lives here."

Remembering the fact that Harry hadn't returned from his late-night trek until after 3am, Sara threw out her hand, gave it spiteful wave, and all the windows slammed shut with a satisfying BANG!

"There! Now there's nothing left except the awful I_stench/I_ of that cologne. You smell like a dead hinkypunk, you know."

Harry turned his weary, angry eyes on her. "Do you really feel it's appropriate to I_attack/I_ me just because I shut some windows?"

"It's never bothered you before! And I don't see the point in making I_all that racket/I_ when youI _know/I_ I'm ASLEEP!"

"Why don't you just sleep in the yard?" Harry fumed, "No windows at all! Then maybe I could sleep in some good old fashioned, warm, I_DRY AIR!_"_ /I_ Harry began to pace the end of the bed, watching her clutch the coverlet in her lap. "And WHO said it's never bothered me? As long as I_you're/I_ comfortable, Sara. That's all that matters to you, isn't it?"

Sara flung the covers back and stood, facing him, so she could shout properly, shaking with rage. "FINE! Is I_that/I_ how you want to be? I_FINE/I_ then!"

"What do you think you're doing? Those are MY things!"

"You're damn right they are!" Sara crossed the floor with a pace that matched her fury and flung the doors open wide. Harry's belongings rained down the steps to the sitting room and Sara went to the bedside chair (where he tended to pile things,) determined to rid the room of everything Harry owned. Down the stairs they went.

Harry could hardly hold his temper. "Stop I_throwing/I_ my things, Sara!"

"I can't I_stand/I_ you!" she hissed as she loaded shirts and trousers onto her arm, "How _dare_ you come to my bed, only to I_despise/I_ me even before the sun comes up?! I've had enough of this."

"You I_would/I_ think that."

"What am I I_supposed/I_ to think? You sneak out of bed every night, as if you really believe that I don't know you're gone. You can't even I_SLEEP/I_ next to me! And you have the I_nerve/I_ to roll your eyes at me?"

Harry managed a perfect expression of amused incredulity. "Well, you I_are/I_ acting like a complete I_psycho_,_ /I_ after all."

Sara's anger turned sharp and her voice dropped to a whisper. "Get out. Take your things and I_GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!" /I_

Harry seethed as he glared at her. "Gladly!"

* * *

"I wonder what Harry and Sara are doing today? Maybe we should fly in for a visit?"

Ron cringed. "Do you think that's such a good idea? I mean, after the party last night, I'd prefer to see them one at a time."

Hermione sighed. "Sad isn't it? It's so obvious. They're so unhappy and I haven't got a I_clue/I_ what to do about it."

Ron watched his wife's index finger run along the spines of books as they stood in theI _Pregnancy and Parenting/I_ section of Flourish & Blotts. "They've got to sort it out for themselves. It's best not to get involved in stuff like that, you know."

She sighed again. "I know. I just feel so helpless is all."

Ron's shoulders slumped. "Yeah. Me, too."

Hermione selected a book and flipped open the cover. Disinterested, Ron looked around the shop to occupy himself. He had no interest in books whatsoever, but a blond head sticking up over the shelves interested him plenty.

Ron's voice dropped to a whisper. "Hermione, look! It's Malfoy!"

I"_Malfoy!" /I_

"What's I_he/I_ doing here?"

"He looks awful! Look at the bags under his eyes, and he's so I_pale_."_ /I_

"How can you tell? He's I_colorless/I_ to begin with."

Hermione rolled her eyes, ignoring the question.

"Hey," Ron wondered, "isn't he supposed to be in China?"

"Probably just some lame excuse to get out of the party."

"So what do you think? Did he lie to Christina or did she lie I_for_ _/I_ him?"

"Ha! That's not hard to figure out. I think she probably I_would/I_ lie for him if he asked, but I don't think that she did. I think he's up to something."

"Maybe he just got back? We shouldn't jump to conclusions, as fun as it is."

I"_Honestly_,_ /I_ Ron. But you're right. He could just be worn out from traveling."

"Yeah, but I doubt it."

"Me, too."

"What's he doing in I_that/I_ section?" Ron wondered, "odd, don't you think?"

Hermione shoved I_Wizards in the Womb/I_ into his hands. "Stay here and act casual. I'm going to see if I can get a look at what he's buying."

Ron browsed the shelf before him, keeping one eye on Hermione as she moved with the stealth of nonchalance into an excellent vantage point. Malfoy glanced over both shoulders, and then opened a book and perused its contents before glancing around again. He hurried to the cashier with it held tight to his chest.

"Did you see what it was?"

Hermione sighed her frustration. "Not really. It looked familiar, but I couldn't see the title."

"Well, whatever it was, he didn't want anyone to see him with it."

"He's leaving. Come on, Ron. I'm I_dying/I_ to know what he's got."

* * *

Pictures had always been Harry's favorite link to the past. Even better than a pensieve, he thought. It was through pictures that he visited his parents, or recalled small moments in time, be they happy or difficult, with those he loved - and sometimes those he didn't. On each page of every album were snippets of memory that might have been lost, like smoke in the fog, had someone not clicked a shutter.

He and Sara had I_hundreds/I_ of pictures. Maybe _more_ than that. Most were carefully placed in scrapbooks, some labeled and arranged in chronological order, like index cards, in boxes. Others were helter-skelter and thrown together, waiting for someone to come along and organize them. It was this task that Harry now set himself.

He had carried all the boxes into the biggest of the seven guest rooms and piled them on the floor around him. It was no accident that this room was at the front of the house, above the library and as far away from Sara as possible. He'd considered moving into the cottage next door, but decided that she would feel the need to come over there just to harass him at every opportunity. This way, he was still in the house, but lost in its vastness. Living together, yet removed from her, separated by the distance of floors and walls. There was no need for her to knock on I_this/I_ door and he hoped that she didn't. He wanted to be left alone with their photographs and clinging to what remained of his peace of mind.

The only problem was that Harry simply could not focus on the job at hand. Sara was in I_every/I_ picture. Sara smiling. Sara's pretty violet-blue eyes staring back at him with a golden halo of light around her hair and caught in the folds of her odd, yet elegant dresses. Sara with her arms around him. Sara, Sara, and more Sara. Harry sighed and dropped the photos back in the box. He kicked it away in frustration.

Harry found a silken, padded, yet entirely uncomfortable chair wedged between a chest of drawers and a desk and fell into it in the silence of a room so foreign. He had been in here only a few times. He liked the room, all done in azure and sea greens and with a ceiling of the deepest blue, twinkling with stars at all hours of the day or night. On two walls were the rooftops of London, with an image of Big Ben looming over them. On the other two, a strange and wonderful scene. A rolling sea, a pirate ship, and an island high atop a cliff with a sizable tree in its center. Above the bed, there was a great gold frame that held a fascinating mural of Peter Pan and his friends. Michael, he thought, looked a bit like him, with his top hat over dark, unruly hair, and round glasses. Wendy looked just like… I_Christina._ _/I_

Harry's heartbeat quickened and his mouth went dry, a reaction he didn't quite understand. The resemblance was uncanny and as he beheld the image, the night came back to him. He felt terrible for her, and hated Malfoy with renewed enthusiasm. It was plain that he had abandoned Chris and was probably up to no good, I_wherever/I_ he was. The odd behavior she had described wasn't as odd when considered by a wizard as opposed to a muggle, but it was still curious. Malfoy's uncharacteristic quietude bothered him, but did not allay Harry's suspicions. Once a snake, always a snake. That was I_his_ _/I_ take on the matter.

The fact that Malfoy was slowly carting his belongings out of the house told Harry what Christina could not see for herself. That Draco was playing the coward with a slow, painstaking withdrawal. It was clear that Malfoy was giving Chris the house on the hill where he had lived since leaving Hogwarts, and for that Harry thanked him, but to deny her an explanation was unforgivable. Draco had saved her once, and had shown such care for her that it warmed the hearts of all who knew the evil bastard. So what had happened in seven years? Why, in all that time, did Draco never bother to marry her? The fact that he hadn't was dishonorable in Harry's eyes, a disrespect she hardly deserved, and it made his blood boil. Did the fact that Chris had grown into a solid, confident, well-rounded person disinterest Malfoy? Was her need and helplessness her only allure for him? Harry couldn't imagine that Christina was at fault in any way. She was one of the most likable people he had ever met, and he'd warmed to her instantly, the first time they'd met. He remembered it well. She had looked at him from beside Draco's bed with an expression of startled puzzlement and asked I_Why are you pointing a stick at me?_ _/I_

Last night they had shared a closeness they had experienced only once before, the night Sara found out they were sending Draco back to the catacombs. Chris had found him alone in the room beside the veranda. They had only just met, really, yet she'd felt his pain and was moved to hug him, even though it was her friend's life that Harry played with. That didn't matter to her. What mattered was that someone needed consolation and she'd given it without reservation. It was an act of kindness that would never leave him.

Harry smiled with the memory and vacated his uncomfortable chair. There were always new clothes to wear, as Sara shopped like one obsessed, and it was from these that he chose with care. Having skipped breakfast rather than share it with Sara, Harry was hungry and thought perhaps Christina might enjoy going out for lunch. She was lonely, he knew, set apart from the world in her house on the hill and, well, he could use a little company. Company that didn't make him feel like loathsome, pathetic, dirt. Company that didn't throw his belongings down the stairs or scream at him. Company that didn't chase the joy out his every waking moment.

* * *

Sara sniffled, found a half-soggy tissue on the table and touched it to her nose. Her sandwich sat untouched and she pushed the plate away. "I just don't understand him anymore, Severus. He was once the mostI _wonderful/I_ person, but now he's a stranger to me. I don't even know how to I_talk/I_ to him anymore. It's hopeless!"

Snape propped his feet on an adjacent chair as he watched her cry from across the table. Something she did so often now during his visits that he was no longer moved to comfort her at every moment. If anything, her tears only made him hate her husband with renewed fervor. "If you ask me, it's I_always/I_ been hopeless."

Sara rose from her chair in frustration and carried a glass of lemonade to the veranda's edge, putting her back to Snape and watching the water tumble far below. As always, she ignored his sarcasm. "I know it's horrible of me to say this, but I think we made a mistake, Harry and me. We were young. Foolish perhaps. I never should have come back from Romania."

"No, you I_should_ _/I_ have come back. Just not to I_him." /I_

Sara turned to face her old friend once more, hoping for some real insight instead of the usual insults to Harry.

"Has it escaped your attention, Sara, that the person you were destined for was always right in front of you? So I_completely/I_ in front of you, in fact, that I'm surprised you never I_fell/I_ over him."

Sara's hands tightened on the glass she held as she leaned against the veranda's ledge with something akin to defeat. Her voice dropped to just above a whisper "If you're talking about Draco, then no, it has not escaped my attention. It's a mereI _possibility_,_ /I_ Severus, though I'm not so sure I believe in destiny."

Snape tried to hide his smile behind his sandwich. He had waited far too long, nearly ten years, to hear these words from her, and the joy they brought spread within him like warmth.

Sara's brow creased with irritation. "I didn't say anything to warrant that smirk."

"I'm simply I_eating a sandwich/I_ in case you hadn't noticed."

"I notice more than you think."

"Then why are you always so I_blind?" /I_

"Oh shut-up about it already!"

Snape smirked again, though this time it was deliberate.

"Stop mocking me."

Snape gestured at the wilted, bite-ridden bread with its contents half flopped out. His mouth was full, and his reply was muffled by half-chewed food. I_"Sandwich." /I_

Sara turned her back on him again, stabbing at a lemon wedge with a long plastic stir, then swirling the contents of her glass until the ice tinkled loud enough to serve as a satisfactory distraction. It was embarrassing on some level, to be read like an open book, or maybe Snape had seen something all along. Something that she herself had chosen to ignore. Then again, maybe not. Maybe this was all just guilt over her visit with Draco last night. Either way, a sudden change of topic seemed a like I_wonderful/I_ idea.

"Tell me, Severus, have you heard from Sylvia?"

"Of course not. She despises me, remember?"

"Maybe you should pay her a visit and apologize before you I_sandwich/I_ yourself into obesity."

"I beg your pardon!"

"That third button will pop off when you mount your broom."

"Ha! So much for your divination skills!"

"And how embarrassed will you be when I'm right?"

"This button is _not_ going to pop off. I've wearing this robe for years and it still fits I_just fine, /I_ thank you!"

This time it was Sara's turn to smirk. "I think we'll have tea now if you'd like. The scones should be ready."

"What kind are they?"

"Raspberry."

"As long as they aren't orange again."

Without another word, Sara left the veranda and abandoned Snape to the last bite of his sandwich. He was surprised to see a moving black span of wings fluttering toward him, but grew excited when he saw it was his owl. "Spooky! I've been waiting I_all day_ _/I_ for you! It's I_about time/I_ you returned!"

Spooky gave a muffled hoot and threw the letter in Sara's uneaten bowl of soup. Snape swatted her away with an annoyed growl. "Miserable, I_ungrateful/I_ wretch…"

A few swipes with his napkin and the dripping letter was as close to clean as it was going to get, so without further hesitation, he broke the seal. Snape had found it hard to sleep last night after sending Spooky off to Diagon Alley, but he finally had his answer and his eyes almost betrayed his delight at what that answer had turned out to be.

Sara's heels sounded her approach, so Snape hid the soup-stained letter beneath his soup-stained napkin and waited.

* * *

"Ron! You're standing on my robe again!"

"Well if it wasn't hanging on the ground!"

This earned a disapproving glance from Hermione. "It won't be for long."

"True," he grinned, "You're going to look funny, you know."

I_"Funny! /I_ Really! I'm glad that's what you think!"

"Shhh, he's coming out."

Malfoy emerged from a potion shop with his eyes set dead ahead, his face expressionless. Hermione fell silent and did her best to be inconspicuous as she and Ron pretended to be deep in discussion across the way. Hermione wore her hood against the miserable London drizzle. Ron wore his as well, but mostly to hide his bright ginger hair.

Hermione exhaled. "He didn't see us."

I_"Us? /I_ He doesn't see anything at all! He's practically out to lunch, don't you think? I mean, I_look/I_ at him!"

Hermione turned to follow Malfoy through the half-busy Diagon Alley street. "He I_does/I_ seem rather preoccupied. I mean, look! He just bumped right into Mr. Snivel and he didn't even I_glance, /I_ much less apologize!"

"Did you really expect him to? More likely he'd tell Snivel to watch where he's going!"

"Either way, he didn't even notice! "

"I say there's something on his mind and, whatever it is, it's big."

"I agree. Remember back at Hogwarts when Lucius had Narcissa locked in the basement?"

"Yeah, and Malfoy acted totally normal."

"He's not acting normal now."

"Maybe it's just that he thinks no one's looking."

"Maybe," Ron conceded, "but what's he got in that bag? That's what I_I/I_ want to know! Looks like a I_lot/I_ of things, actually."

"I'm going to find out. You follow Draco. I'll catch up in a minute."

Hermione hurried away.

"Ok, and then can we get a sandwich?"

* * *

Hermione removed her hood and breathed the overwhelming scent of the common potion ingredients that filled an entire floor to ceiling wall of the small, immaculate shop. Another wall displayed various cauldrons of cast iron, copper, and gold. In stacks on the floor were three sizes of the more standard pewter, like the ones they'd used at Hogwarts. A third wall held an array of potion-making supplies, jars, vials, measuring devices, and paddles_._ Hermione noticed one small section of the shelf was completely empty.

Feigning irritation, she asked the clerk what had been on the shelf.

"Fog vials. That's what goes there. Funny you should ask. Young fellow just bought them all. Odd thing to need a lot of, if you ask me."

I"_All/I_ of them! But that's what I needed!"

"Not a very popular item. After all, they're only good for a few obscure potions and rather I_boring/I_ ones at that."

Hermione let her false frustration blossom. "I can't believe it! That I_scoundrel!" /I_

"I beg your pardon, miss?"

"You see," Hermione stepped closer, "we're having a scavenger hunt and a fog vial is worth ten points! Malfoy bought them all so the other teams couldn't collect one. ItI _must/I_ have been him. I just passed him on the street on my way in!"

"Young blond chap?"

"That would be the one," she rolled her eyes; "He alwaysI _cheats!" /I_

"Could have one for you by the end of next week if it helps."

"The game will be over by then. Thanks anyway."

* * *

Harry didn't know why he'd taken Chris to a small, out of the way, muggle café in the south of London, except something about what he was doing seemed wrong and he felt the need to keep a low profile. He had no idea why, as his intensions were good and it was the middle of the day. There was nothing despicable about having lunch with a friend, was there? Still, the more he tried to reason the guilt away, the stronger its presence became. He needed to relax.

Harry ordered a bottle of wine. It cost a mere twenty-five pounds and was sure to be less than what he was used to, but he didn't mind, so long as it wasn't I_Riesling./I_ Pinot Gregio was what they'd selected, with plenty of input from Christina, who looked at him with a hint of smile.

Harry smiled back. "Were you going to share or do I have to start guessing?"

"It's nothing really. It's just that Draco I_never_ _/I_ asked me what kind of wine I wanted and I want you to know that I absolutely I_hate/I_ merlot."

Harry laughed, incredulous. "Are you telling me that you drank merlot for I_seven years/I_ and never told him?" Harry was reminded of Draco once asking his opinion on daiquiri flavors, and then deciding on his own before Harry had a chance to answer.

"Well, it's not like I told him I hated it and he ordered it anyway. He simply never I_asked."_ _/I_ Christina looked at him for a moment, the corner of her mouth twitched, and they both burst out laughing.

The waiter returned with the bottle and poured two glasses. Harry lifted his. "Well, here's to finally voicing your opinion."

Christina laughed again and raised her glass as well. "I will definitely drink to that!" she took a small sip and returned her glass to the table. "but really, Harry, I can't tell you how refreshing it is not to feel like I have to lie."

"Missing dear old I_silver britches/I_ already, are you?"

Christina erupted with a loud bellow of laughter. "Harry, you're I_terrible!" /I_

"Oh, so you find him humble, do you? You're right. There's nothing snooty and obnoxious about him. Not I_one thing!" /I_

"You, Mr. Potter, are not yourself today!"

"If you mean that I'm in a good mood for once, then guilty as charged."

"And why should today be any different?"

Harry smiled while he considered the question. "I guess maybe I needed a little change of scenery."

"Likewise."

"Yes, I'd have to say you're in a much better mood than you were last night. I'm glad. I didn't like seeing you upset."

"I want to thank you again for coming so late and on such sort notice. I still haven't gotten the hang of the bird thing."

"It's not hard. All you have to do is hand the letter to the bird. They do the rest."

"I guess I'm still a bungler in your world. Draco taught me things, but mostly I think he was reluctant to."

Harry was enjoying this outing more than he'd expected to, and didn't want to spoil it with further talk of Malfoy. Thankfully, their meals came, and the subject changed. However, he wasn't thankful for long.

"So what's Sara up to?"

Harry's hands started to shake. "Snape was over when I left."

"She didn't mind lending you for an afternoon?"

The guilt leapt up the back of his throat and the thoughtI _I didn't tell her_ _/I_ came to mind, but he shoved it back and tried to smile. The lettuce shook right off his fork. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Harry noticed her spoon was causing a tremor of ripples in her soup and she touched her hair at least once every 2 seconds. "Well, it's not like we're on a date or anything." She laughed and it was blatantly unnatural.

Harry returned the creepy, forced laughter. "No, of course not."

All focus was quite suddenly concentrated on their sandwiches and Harry didn't dare look up. The truth was; he had no idea why he had asked Chris to lunch without telling Sara. She was his wife after all, fight or no fight, and he was feeling dishonest. Half of him begged to go home; the other half didn't care and felt it served her right after this morning. She'd thrown his things down the stairs! Besides, he reminded himself, there was nothing wrong with taking a friend to lunch in the middle of the day. Chris was such a nice person after all, and she was all alone in Malfoy's house on the hill. Why did Sara have to ruinI _everything? /I_ She wasn't even I_here_,_ /I_ yet she'd spoiled every good feeling he'd had so far. But that was Sara. His own personal monkey wrench. Harry's brow furrowed in anger.

* * *

"Severus, I have to tell you about something."

Snape was busying himself with The Daily Prophet, sipping his fifth cup of tea since the end of lunch. "I'm all ears."

"You remember how you were saying that Harry and I might be having so many problems because we're bored?"

"I believe I said you lead worthless lives, but that's close enough," Snape folded the paper and set it aside, "Funny you should mention that at this moment in time, though." He smiled and glanced at his soup-stained napkin, now dried stiff in places. "Go on."

"Well, I was reading the paper the other day and I saw there were some storefronts up for auction in Diagon Alley."

Snape went white. "And?"

"And… I just got a response saying that I've won the bid on the old Toadbucket Tool store!" Sara nearly came out of her chair with excitement.

Snape's heart sank. "So tell me, Sara, what exactly you were hoping to do with Toadbucket Tool?"

"That's the thing. I may need some help, but I was planning to remodel it and set up a business for Harry."

Snape straightened in his chair. "What sort of business?"

"A private auror business. You know, people could hire him to look into things for them." Sara was becoming uncomfortable and wondered if telling Snape had been a good idea. He seemed less than pleased.

"Believe it or not, Sara, I think that's a rather good idea. Not only will it occupy Potter, but it might give him some sort of purpose in the world besides I_taking up space." /I_

Used to ignoring his slights against Harry, Sara continued. "It's in his nature to get to the bottom of things, you know, to uncover the truth."

"To be nosey and snoop around in other people's business, you mean."

"There hasn't been much for him to do with Voldemort gone, and he's bored to death with the Swill factory. I thought, maybe, if he had an office to go to everyday, he wouldn't be so restless." Sara bowed her head and sighed. "Severus. I can't take it anymore. Something has to change and it has to happen soon. I can only hope this helps."

"Well, even if he's a professional flop, which I'm sure will be the case; at least he'll have a prime social hangout."

Sara said nothing, just sighed again.

"So, what about you? Do you require no distraction?"

Sara shuffled her feet. There was so much that she wanted to say to that, but her petty wants and desires were trivial at the moment. Actually, she thought, they wereI _always/I_ trivial. "Fixing up the tool store will keep me busy for awhile."

Snape smiled, seeing the depression in her eyes, the need of something more than what lay ahead of her. He tossed the napkin, covered in dried soup, aside and held the letter in his hand until Sara's gaze fell upon it. "It's a bit early, but you are now the proud owner of Toadbucket Torch & Candle. Put your divining talents to good use." Snape smiled at the delight in her surprised expression. "Happy birthday, my dear."

"Severus!"

"You aren't going to get all sappy on me, are you?"

Tears spilled down Sara's face. "I can't believe anyone would do such a thing for me. This must have cost you _years_ of wages!"

"Yes, my dreams of buying a time-share in Florida are dashed."

Sara pulled Snape out of his chair and threw her arms around him.

* * *

Draco sat staring at the portrait with little expression, the turmoil he felt inside invisible to the untrained eye. The oil paint eyes that looked back, however, were all too familiar with his moments of duress. "Come now, Draco. You must know what I'm saying is true."

"It's I_ludicrous_,_ /I_ if that's what you mean."

Lucius sighed. I_"Consider/I_ it at least. You haven't many choices, now do you?"

"If that is the only thing you can come up with, then I have no choices at all."

Lucius rolled his eyes. "You've always been impossible. I thought by this age you'd have come around a trifle more than this."

"Come around? I'm lucky not to have gone insane by now."

"You asked for my counsel as your father. I gave it. I was right about the muggle, wasn't I?"

"In that case, you confirmed what I already knew. You counsel by your own standards, not by what you feel is best for I_me." /I_

"The point is; I wasI _right." /I_

Draco sighed and fell back into the sofa. "Yes, but for all the wrong reasons."

"Good heavens, Draco, you look affright! I'm beginning to wonder which one of us is among the living!"

"Don't make jokes like that. It's not at all amusing."

"It wasn't meant to be. Have you eaten today?"

"I got a sandwich at the Leaky Cauldron."

"And did you I_eat/I_ any of it?"

"I ate some. I didn't really feel like it."

"Which is part of the reason why you look like death, I imagine. You I_must/I_ eat, Draco. Whether you I_feel/I_ like it or not!"

"I know."

"You are terribly pale. Worse than usual. Do you feel alright?"

Draco was not used to such a concerned parent, but rather liked having someone worry over him, even if it was just a portrait. "I'm very tired."

At last, Lucius' expression softened. "Go to sleep then. I will send Miss Lemke up when she arrives."

"Her name is I_Mrs. Potter, /I_ in case you forgot. She's I_married. /I_ How many times must I remind you of this? A million? Besides, I know her well enough to know that she won't come back."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because that's what she does, Father. Sara runs away. Especially from me."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that."

Draco gave the painting a saddened half-smile and headed for the comfort of his bed.

* * *

Sara jumped from her seat at the kitchen table as soon as he walked in, wearing an elated smile and brimming with anticipation. "Where have you been? I've been waiting for you for I_hours!" /I_

Harry was surprised by her question and found he had not prepared an adequate response. He somehow stopped his hands from shaking and went on the defensive. "Why?"

"I've got good news!"

Harry pulled out a chair and picked up the Daily Prophet, relieved, and no longer on edge. "Let me guess. Snape is moving in?"

"No!" she laughed, "Snape has given me a storefront in Diagon Alley as an early birthday present! He wants me to be a fortune teller," she laughed again, bubbling over with excitement, having forgotten how mad she'd been earlier in the day.

"I see." Harry sat down and opened the paper, hiding his face from her view.

"I'm glad you're so interested in what I have to say. I_Nice, /I_ Harry_._"

His voice issued from behind the newspaper. "I'm not deaf. I I_can/I_ still hear, you know. It's not like you're being I_quiet/I_ or anything."

"Forget it. I don't know why I thought you'd care to begin with."

Harry said nothing.

Sara felt her anger rise. It was such a foreign feeling, to be hateful toward Harry. He'd been distant for so long now and she'd learned to live with it, tiptoed around it, but then the fight had erupted this morning. Now, it felt like the dam on her negative emotions had been flung wide. The fact was, she was tired of being his doormat, tired of being taken for granted and disregarded. It was as if she was a trophy he'd won, displayed for a while, and then pushed to the back of the shelf where it was no longer appreciated. Where it simply took up space.

"Do you still love me, Harry?"

Harry issued a grumbled sort of sigh, indicative of his irritation. "Do you always have to pull this nonsense the second I walk in the door?" he threw down the paper and looked at her with angry eyes, "I was in a good mood until I saw I_you." /I_

"Just answer the question."

"Well if you I_don't know, /I_ then my telling you won't do any good!"

Sara burst into tears, unable to help it, and a crack of thunder sounded in the distance. Rain splattered against the kitchen windows.

"Why are you crying? What did I do I_this/I_ time?"

"I'm crying because I was happy until I saw you, too."

"Well I'm sorry to have ruined your mood." Harry instantly regretted the note of sarcasm and insincerity he'd heard come out of his own mouth.

"And now you won't even tell me you love me."

"Sara, I…"

"Don't bother," she interrupted, "You've said all you needed to say already."

"Why do you always have to do this? In case you hadn't noticed, you're not exactly a joy to be around."

"Me?! At least II _try/I_ to talk to you! You're so miserable I can't stand to be around you half of the time! All you do is mope and ignore me and do your best to make me feel as I_unwanted/I_ as humanly possible, and you have the nerve to fault me for being unhappy about it?"

"If you're so unhappy then why don't you leave?"

Sara's knees nearly buckled, as though she'd been punched hard in the chest and had the wind knocked out of her. She looked her husband in the eye with the greatest conviction she could muster. "Because I swore I'd never leave you and I won't."

"Well, Sara, some promises are made to be broken."

"Do you want me to move out?" Just saying the words felt like a knife plunged into her heart and her eyes fell closed with the pain of it.

Harry saw the damage his statement had done. Even more so, he watched as her black streak grew before his eyes. Guilt invaded him for the millionth time that day and it was Christina's face that drifted across his mind's eye. "I I_don't know/I_ what I want, Sara."

She watched as he left the room on tired feet, the soles of his shoes dragging like dead weights that scuffed along the floor. Sara fell into her chair at the table, let her head fall into her hands, and cried the way she hadn't cried in months. Her tears splattered the letter Snape had given her. The one she'd been so excited to show to Harry.

Sara stood without thought, sending her chair crashing backward onto the floor with a loud clatter. She ran to the door of the kitchen, and when she shouted after him, her words resonated through the entire lobby. "HOW COULD YOU BE SO I_CRUEL/I_ TO ME??!!"

The only response was the sound of a door slamming somewhere deep in the emptiness.

* * *

The pretty, satin chair was just as uncomfortable as it had been earlier in the day, but Harry sat in it anyway, as the discomfort was somehow in tune with his state of mind. His chin rested on interlaced fingers, folded, with both thumbs pressed under his jaw as his elbows sat on his knees. It was the composure of one deep in contemplation and his eyes fixed on the figure of Peter Pan's Wendy in the painting before him, thinking of the wonderful afternoon he'd spent with Christina. And of the guilt of his deception.

He had been cruel to Sara earlier, she'd been right about that, but only half of him was sorry. The half that remembered the madness of a love so complete, so I_integral, /I_ that he would rather die than live without it. The half that loved her still, that forgave her every wrong. The part of him that would fall to pieces if she walked away. I_That/I_ side of him was I_more_ _/I_ than sorry. I_That/I_ side felt like the creep that he was.

The other half of him, however, smiled at the vindication of making her as miserable as she often made him. I_That/I_ half of him was tired of feeling useless, of living without purpose in a dream he'd once cherished. Tired of pretending he still wanted what he had, when the truth of the matter was that he would trade it all for just a little spark of excitement. To feel the way he I_used/I_ to feel. On the edge, important, I_needed/I_ to some extent. There were no longer challenges to be met. Nothing to be conquered. No skills to master and no goals. All that was left for him now was this stale existence of trudging through day after uneventful day and he hated her for it.

It was hard to admit, even to himself, but Harry blamed Sara for all that was wrong in their lives, even though it was clear that she was miserable, too. It bothered him to know that he was happier out of her sight, when he was away from their lonely home by the sea. It upset him to feel trapped in his marriage and to be able to I_taste/I_ how good it was to be free, only to come home again. Those little moments of emotional, personal freedom were always tainted by the knowledge that he would soon have to return to the life he'd carved for himself.

He knew it wasn't her fault. It was no one's fault, really, but he punished her for every negative feeling he had. He couldn't help it sometimes. The need to push her away, to be cold to her, or even cruel to her, was sometimes the only thing that kept him together. It wasn't hard to figure out that he'd been spiteful tonight because she'd angered him in the morning, but that was only part of it. He'd been invaded by jealousy as she told him of the shop she was to open in Diagon Alley, and he was jealous of her excitement, of the fact that she had something I_good/I_ to look forward to. Something that would _last._ Something he himself didn't have. Harry didn't know why he'd been so rude about the whole thing, it was uncalled for and he knew it, but at this moment, he couldn't bring himself to apologize. His emotions were too conflicted. There was only one thing on his mind that made sense. One thing that brought the comfortable, easy smile to his face that had left him over the years.

Something she'd said over lunch brought Harry out of his chair. He glanced again at the painted image of Wendy and his smile widened.

* * *

The rain and damp had moved off toward the rest of Europe and Harry gazed upon a starlit sky as he waited on the step with his Lightning Mach 5 in one hand. He was still smiling when the door opened and he turned to face her.

She looked cute, he thought, with her long, chestnut hair pulled back in a ponytail. She wore ripped jeans and a tank top under a long, red jumper and looked completely muggle. Completely I_normal. /I_

"Christina," Harry grinned, "I was in the area and I remembered what you said about Malfoy being reluctant to show you the wizarding world, so I was wondering if you might like to go flying."

Christina's smiled and let the door close behind her.

* * *

36


	3. Chapter 3: Slide Away

The Girl in the Tower 2: Seasons of Discontent Ch. 3: Slide Away

**BPART 1: SEVEN YEARS**

_**C**__**ha**__**p**__**ter 3: Slide Away/B**_

Sewing had never been one of his better skills, but Snape would rather drink an entire vat of boiled dragon urine than admit to I_anyone/I_ that he had popped a button on his robe. It was an old robe, he could easily say that the thread had frayed, but admitting it loud, or lying about it, was something he couldn't bring himself to do. No, he would sew the button back on himself and, next time he saw Sara, he would pretend it hadn't popped off when he'd boarded his broom. The embarrassment was simply more than he could live with.

She'd been right, though. After being told he was eating too much, he'd taken a good long look in the mirror. Snape had cringed at the strain his seams were under, the roll of blubber that folded over the too-snug waist of his trousers, and of course, the stressed buttons on his tunic. He'd taken to wearing the looser, flowing robes from the back of his closet, but hated the way they looked on him. Too frilly. Besides, robes couldn't ease the fit of his trousers or hide the extra baggage on his cheeks and under his chin. He was I_fat, /I_ plain and simple.

Snape sat down at his writing desk for the second time in as many days, which was even more improbable than his weight. The candle came to life with a wave of his hand, casting a warm glow on his pale skin and disappearing into the black of his nightclothes. It was with a hesitant, uneasy hand that he pulled the stack of dusty parchment before him and opened the inkwell. Taking the quill between his thumb and forefinger, Snape wondered how to begin. There was so much to say, after all, and he was certain she wouldn't read a word of it.

I_Dear Sylvia,_

_I hope you will hear me out before setting this letter on fire…/I_

* * *

Opening the locked box atop the dresser wasn't the difficult part. The old skeleton key fit easily into its notch as it always had, and Sara ignored the glittering jewels in favor of a plain, yet cherished item. Something she had once loathed to her very core. She stood with the small square in her hands, looking at it, waiting, it seemed, for some outside indication of what she should do. There was a storm raging inside her, pulling her from one side of the issue to the other, like a boat tossed upon a violent sea. The fact of the matter was, it was I_wrong/I_ to visit Draco again, especially after how close they'd been last night.

Sara closed her hand around the portkey and wandered to the window to gaze out at the stars, hoping the beauty of the night might offer the sort of clarity she herself could not find on her own. Her thumb brushed across the serpent inset with absence of mind as she considered the dilemma, knowing both what she I_wanted, /I_ and what wasI _right. /I_ She was a married woman, one who was not at liberty to surrender to embracing a man she still harbored a secret longing for. A man who told her in plain English that he could not live without her.

Yes, they loved each other still, but Draco was her closest friend, and he was lonely, sad, in need of her company. He needed an understanding, consoling shoulder, like hers, to bear his burden for a while. What exactly that burden was she did not know, but wasn't it the duty of a friend to find out? After all, sometimes a broken soul like his could be healed with nothing more than love, sympathy and heartfelt conversation.

Sara knew she needed to talk to Draco, spend some time with him, dig deeper than she had last night. He was hurting, that much was obvious, but the truth was, she needed him, too. She needed to be in his presence again, to feelI _rational/I_ again, but what she longed for most was the comfort of his company, the unconditional acceptance she saw in his eyes, and the simple affection of one who loved her without reservation.

Lifting the locator from its long chain around her neck, Sara saw that Harry was I_traveling/I_ and she had heard him go out an hour or so ago. She had plenty of alone time if she knew her husband as well as she thought she did, and that was what made up her mind. The sharp, painful memory of his harsh words in the kitchen pushed what little consideration she still had for him clear out of her reasoning. Sara opened the box and touched the key.

* * *

It was an old haunt, one he hadn't visited in years, but the painting of Peter Pan had brought it back to mind. Harry hovered aside the clock face of Big Ben, high above the world where they were barely more than two specks in the night. He helped Christina from the broom, and then took a seat beside her, smiling as he beheld her delighted, awestruck expression. "Good thing it was fourteen of twelve, or else we'd be I_hanging/I_ off the minute hand instead."

"Harry, look at the I_view!_ _/I_ You can see for miles! I_The_ _whole city! /I_ This is amazing!"

"I used to come here all the time when I first got out of school. I'd forgotten how peaceful it was." He tapped the wall behind them and she laughed aloud.

B**Harry Was Here!/B**

Biso was Ron!/I/B

B**and Hermione!/B**

"It's a little faded by now, but still perfectly legible."

"It's a hell of a place to leave your mark, I must say."

"Hermione was I_furious/I_ when I wrote on Big Ben, but then Ron did it and in the end she couldn't stand to be left out. Of course, I only brought them up here the one time. This was kind of a thinking spot for me, so I was usually alone."

"Sara's name isn't there."

"I've never brought her here."

Christina fell silent for a long moment, looking down upon the lights of London, high above the noise and the fog, and the bustle of life.

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that this is the happiest I've been in years, Harry. It's been so I_long/I_ since I've felt even the smallest spark of excitement that I almost forgot how it felt."

I _The smallest spark of excitement/I. _Those exact words had crossed his mind earlier in the day. Harry's smile faded when he recalled thinking that he would trade all that he had for that very thing. He'd found that spark in Christina, but that only complicated every aspect of his life beyond anything he'd experienced yet. He enjoyed her company so much! And she enjoyed his as well, that much was plain. He was lonely and so was she. Christina made him feel alive again, cleared the dust from the part of him that thrived on the adventure of the unknown and the rush of adrenaline. What frightened him was the knowledge that, if he pursued this path, he really I_would/I_ lose all that he had.

"I needed this, Harry. I can't tell you how much the time we've spent together has changed things for me. I don't have the words to explain, not that anyone could ever understand. All I know is that I desperately needed a friend, so thank you."

"Every word of what you just said applies to me as well, so I think I understand perfectly."

Christina showed him a soft, emotional smile and touched his hand. "Something told me you would understand more than anyone else, Harry Potter, and I want you to know that if you want to talk about it, I'm here to listen."

"Thanks," the thought of Sara cast a shadow across his heart and Harry sighed, "but I had forgotten my troubles until now, and I was rather enjoying my time away from them."

Christina nodded her understanding and looked down on the city once more. "You know, right now, you and I are the only people in the world." She smiled her thanks and Harry held her eyes. Something inside him changed in that moment, and just as his breath caught in his throat, the minute hand on the face of Big Ben moved to 17 after the hour. With a great shudder and a sudden change in incline, Christina was taken off guard and she slid toward the center of the clock, tumbling against him. Fearful of plummeting to her death, she screamed and reached out for Harry, who grabbed her and set her upright again.

Laughing and with his arms around her, Harry helped her to stand. "We'd best be going before it dumps us off completely."

She grinned and took his hand as she tried to hide her embarrassment. "It's too bad. These were three of the I_best/I_ and most I_memorable/I_ minutes of my entire life."

"Sorry we couldn't stay longer. It's only good if it's quarter of or quarter after, but if it's three or nine o'clock you can linger awhile on the hour hand."

"Please say you'll bring me back again? I could sit up here for an I_eternity_,_ /I_ I think."

"Perhaps. I have such a busy schedule you know."

Christina smiled, knowing Harry was bored most of the time. She eased onto the broom and wrapped her arms around his waist.

* * *

"Haven't you found anything yet?"

Ron dropped his hands onto the book before him with tired frustration. "I'm I_looking! /I_ How many times are you going to ask? I mean, I_you/I_ haven't found anything yet, either!"

Hermione sighed and stretched her arms, knocking two thick books off a tall stack. They tumbled to the floor with a loud thud, but she barely took notice. "All I_I've/I_ managed to learn is that they cool their contents to one degree above freezing. No mention of which potions would require them. There's simply I_nothing/I_ here!"

"Maybe we're looking in the wrong place?"

"Where else would we look besides potions books?"

"How should I_I/I_ know? You're the expert when it comes to studying up on things!"

Hermione hesitated, as though wrestling with an odd thought. "Perhaps we should ask Snape?"

I_"Snape!? /I_ Are you I_mad?" /I_

Hermione yawned. "It was just a thought."

"Not a very I_good/I_ one."

"I think Headmaster McGonagall would let us use the library at Hogwarts if we sent her an owl."

"That's going a bit far just to snoop around in Malfoy's business."

"True," she sighed, "Maybe we should give up for the night. All of my ideas are lousy. I need some rest."

"But it's Friday night!"

"Actually, I_Ronald, /I_ its Saturday morning. It's after midnight in case you hadn't noticed. Besides, it's not like we can go out I_drinking/I_ or anything." Hermione gave him a cautionary glare and laid a hand over her stomach.

Ron ignored it. "Well, I_I/I_ could still drink. You could get some water or something." Hermione's nostrils flared and her eyes set on him with a piercing glare of fury. Ron gulped. "Or maybe I_not." /I_

"Allow me to change the subject."

"Gladly."

"I've been going over this all day and I think I may have an idea as to what he's up to. After the attack on Voldemort, everyone in the wizarding world believes Draco is trustworthy. That's something I could see him using to his advantage."

"He'd use I_anything/I_ to his advantage if you ask me."

"This may seem a little far-fetched, but maybe Malfoy is making something that could somehow be used in connection with a mass prison break. It's been all over the Daily Prophet. Azkaban is over maximum capacity and there aren't enough dementors. It wouldn't be hard with a little help from the outside."

"Yeah," Ron considered the idea, "everyone's talking about it. Even the Ministry's uneasy these days. Maybe Malfoy's back in with some of his old friends? Maybe even those double-crossing lugs, Crabbe and Goyle!"

"I certainly wouldn't put it past them, especially with Draco as their ringleader again. After all, they only helped Dumbledore so they could help Draco."

"I think it's worth looking into. What do you propose?"

"Tomorrow we'll shift our focus to incendiaries and gasses. Things that could create a diversion, yet need to remain in stasis until the time is right."

"Sounds good to me. Should we tell Harry, do y'think?"

"I don't know. Harry I trust, but to be honest, I don't think it's a good idea to bring Sara in on this. In fact, I don't want her to know about it I_at all."_ _/I_

"I don't think Harry would tell her, do you? After all, he's well aware of the fact that Sara is friends with Malfoy."

"I'll send him an owl in the morning." Hermione slammed her book closed and yawned again. "Now I'm going to bed. Coming?"

"Think I'll work on my model broomstick for a while if you don't mind?"

"Fine. Just don't stay up all night! I want to get an early start."

"You I_always/I_ want to get an early start!"

"And I_you've/I_ got to help your father with the new shed at nine!"

"Oh yeah," Ron's shoulders slumped, "I guess I won't be long, then."

* * *

"Miss Lemke," Lucius purred, I"a_lways/I_ a pleasure."

"News flash, Lucius, I've been married for _seven years._"

"Married, yes, but calling on a rather attractive young man at this late hour and I_unaccompanied/I_ by you husband. Perhaps I'm not the only one who I_forgets_ _/I_ that ring on your finger." Lucius looked at her with amusement in his eyes.

"Draco and I are I_friends_,_ /I_ in case you forgot that, too."

"Yes, well, as for Draco, he was feeling unwell, but he's been sleeping for I_hours. /I_ I'm certain he's quite fine by now. Malfoy's have always been rather resilient in that manner."

"He's sick? It's just his allergies, I hope?"

"He didn't say."

"I should let him rest if he isn't feeling well."

"Perhaps, instead of I_leaving, /I_ you should make him something to eat. He hasn't eaten all day, after all."

"All day! Didn't the house elves prepare anything for him?"

"Ah yes, the house elves. He freed them all years ago."

"I see. In that case, I think it's best if someone checks on him! I wish I'd known sooner, I'd have come straight away!"

"You could always hang my portrait in your bedroom. That way I could alert you to the I_slightest/I_ problem."

"Goodbye, Lucius." Sara turned to go, but he addressed her again.

"Stay awhile, my dear. Some company would do him more good than you know."

"Really, I_Lucius, /I_ do you actually think that I don't know my friend well enough to realize that something is on his mind?"

"Forgive me. I_Of course/I_ you do." Lucius gave her a sly, knowing smile. "You will find his room –"

"I I_know/I_ where it is."

Lucius gave his favorite amused, knowing smirk. I"I'm sure you do._ /I_ Then I will keep you no longer."

Sara found Draco lying in bed with his back to the door. It was a warm night, but a fire was ablaze in the hearth and the heat in the room was stifling. Draco was covered up to his neck with a heavy blanket and his forehead glistened with perspiration, his hair damp with it. She went to him and knelt beside the bed, surprised to find him awake and staring out the dark window. He turned his glassy eyes to her and tried to smile.

"You came."

Sara smiled and brushed the hair from his pale face. "You're burning with fever."

"I wasn't when I laid down. I thought I was just really tired. I'm I_freezing." /I_

"It's not the season for it, but you might have the flu or maybe strep. Does your throat hurt?"

"My throat is fine. Don't worry about me, Sara. I'll be alright if I can manage to warm up."

She stood, and a moment of panic crossed his sleepy expression.

"Whatever you do, I_don't leave." /I_

"I have to get some potions for you. I'll only be gone a minute. You stay right where you are, Draco. I'll have you feeling better in no time."

Sara returned to the house, took what she needed from the potions kit Severus had given her for her seventeenth birthday, touched the key again, and found herself back in Lucius' study.

"Those won't help, you know."

"Why do you say that? Like you even know what I have?!"

"I don't I_need/I_ to know."

"I certainly know how to care for a simple ever!" Sara, growing irritated, covered the portrait with its heavy black drape and returned to Draco's room, muttering under her breath.

She found him reclined against the pillows, propped against the headboard. He was now wearing a black silk robe with a pocket monogram, and his long hair was tied back. He was shaking with chills and Sara knew he would much rather be huddled under the covers, but had neatened his appearance for her benefit.

"I told you to stay put!"

"It's not in my nature to follow orders."

Sara showed him a disapproving smile and started measuring potions into a cup.

"I'm glad you came. I didn't think you would."

Sara grinned. "Well, since I didn't have anything better to do..."

"Potter that interesting is he?" he grimaced and studied the contents of the cup, "This tastes horrible."

"Stop whining."

Draco handed her the empty cup and lay back again, watching as she re-stopped vials and capped jars of pink and green fluids. An expression of grateful adoration crossed his countenance. "If I get sick again, will you come and take care of me?"

"You know I would. If you were truly sick, that is. I'm wise to your tricks."

"You caught me before I even got started! Guess I need some new tricks. And if you say even _one word_ about an old dog I'll turn you straight into one."

"You need to stop reading my mind!"

"I wasn't," he hesitated, "Do you promise you'd take care of me? Even if I'm sixty and fat and have gray hair? Even if I smell like a rotten onion and complain about my back _every_ time I move?"

Sara looked him in the eye with a serious, but amused smile and pressed her hand over his. "I promise. No matter how old you are or how funky you smell."

"Good. Now I'll be able to sleep tonight."

Sara laughed out loud. "I'm going to go make you some food before I toss you out that window."

* * *

"That was I_incredible, /I_ Harry! It felt like we were moving at the speed of sound!"

Harry attempted to be humble. "Well, this I_is/I_ the fastest racing broom in existence."

"Thank you so much for taking me. I can't even begin to tell you how much I enjoyed it. Especially flying through the fog over Loch Ness, and Big Ben, of course."

"Next time we'll stand on top of the Eiffel Tower."

Christina's eyes came alive with the idea of it. "Come in, Harry. Have a drink with me."

Harry stepped inside and leaned his broom against the wall. "Ok."

"I haven't had scotch since my eighteenth birthday," Harry admitted as they sat together on the couch, "Draco stole it from his father's house and gave it to me as a gift."

"You know, it's hard to tell sometimes if you like him or not."

"I liked him just fine that night. The bottle was five hundred years old and it tasted like well-aged gasoline."

Christina laughed. "I'll bet it was better than this stuff."

"Definitely. Not that this is bad, but it was interesting to say the least. I think he mostly gave it to me becauseI _he/I_ wanted to drink it."

"But opening a bottle that old is a special event that one waits _years_ for. He thought your birthday was that occasion, Harry. It says a lot, don't you think?"

"It's easy to say that Draco was my friend that night."

"He wasn't after that?"

"He was gone when I woke up. He left a sarcastic note."

Christina burst out laughing. "He isn't very good with goodbyes, is he?" she dumped more ice into her glass and took a drink, I_"A sarcastic note. /I_ At least you got I_that_ _/I_ much."

Her eyes welled with tears and Harry didn't know what to do. He poured them each more scotch. To his relief, she didn't cry and Harry exhaled. "I've got an idea. Let's not talk about Draco or Sara."

"I think that's a wonderful idea. You were right, what you said earlier. Let's just enjoy our time away from our problems. Why don't you play some music again? That thing doesn't seem to work for me."

Harry grinned and wandered over to the Mega-Muggle Music Player. "What were you in the mood for?"

"You pick. I loved what you played last time. It was perfect. Something upbeat, though."

Soon, loud, brassy jazz filled the room and Christina clapped her hands in approval. "I love it! You really have a knack for complimenting my mood," she stood and kicked off her shoes, "Do you know how to dance, Harry?"

"Um… I _no." /I_

She moved to the center of the floor and held out a hand to him. "Come here, I'll show you a few swing moves. I don't know how to dance, either, but I had to learn a few flashy steps for a play I was in once."

With his nerves climbing up the back of his throat, Harry stood in front of her and before he knew it, they were dancing and twirling around the room. Every few minutes, they took a three-second break to down some scotch, and then Christina would show him something else.

Laughter rang through the halls of the big house as the clock issued a single chime and Harry realized he was having a fantastic time, as well as getting quite drunk. Christina was giddy, her voice kept gaining in volume, and her smile, which never seemed to disappear, touched something inside him. That he was able to make this sad and lonely girl I_this happy/I_ gave him a sense of purpose and he held tight to the feeling. That is, until Christina's foot tangled with his and they both crashed to the floor in a fit of laughter.

Harry made no effort to get up, just propped his head on his elbow and grinned at her. "I I_meant/I_ to do that."

"Of course you did. You're an I_excellent/I_ dancer."

Harry laughed so hard he thought he was actually I_giggling. /I_

Christina stood and offered her hand. "Let me help you up, Mr. Potter."

He took her hand and tried to pull himself up, only he sent her off balance and she fell directly on top of him. His natural instinct was to roll to the side, only his nerves and the amount of scotch he'd consumed sent him over so fast that he nearly rolled himself on top of her_._ All giggling stopped and dead silence overcame them as he looked at her with her dark brown hair splayed out over his arm and her dark brown eyes, so innocent and full of kindness, stared back at him.

* * *

As they walked along the path behind Malfoy Manor, Sara held Draco's arm. It was an affectionate gesture, but also meant to keep him steady on his feet. He looked better than he had when she'd arrived, the fever was gone, but she could tell that he still didn't feel well. She kept a slow, strolling pace.

He'd been quiet tonight, not quite sullen. It was more of a dark contentment that Sara only understood in part. There was something enormous lying under the surface and his aura was dim.

"I've never been out here. It's much prettier than I would have thought."

"I was going to have the giant Venus flytraps taken out, but I decided that they amused me. One of them ate a stray cat once, it was hilarious!" Draco unlocked a gate and led Sara, who was quite horrified, through it. "The rose garden was my mother's. My father hated flowers."

"Then your mother had the better sense. It's a beautiful garden. Especially at night."

He glanced at her nightgown and robe, and smiled at last. "You keep showing up dressed for bed. I would take it as a good sign, but then…"

"Then what?"

His tone was tinged with depression. "But then youI _leave." /I_

Sara's voice grew soft, apologetic. I_"I have to." /I_

Draco pretended he didn't hear her reply. He chuckled a bit, as though some random thought had amused him. "Remember when I practicallyI _begged/I_ you to spend the night with me the last day of school?"

"How could I forget? You know why I ran out of there so fast, don't you?"

"Because you find me vile and repulsive?"

Sara laughed out loud. I"_Hardly. /I_ I left because if I didn't, I _wouldn't_ have. But I _couldn't_ stay, Draco. Not I_that/I_ night."

The path turned and led into a small courtyard, surrounded by white English roses and with two cast iron benches in the center.

"Maybe we should sit down for a few minutes. You don't want to over-do it."

"Sure," he said, wanting to insist that he was fine when he wasn't. Instead, he let her wrap her arm around his back and lower him onto the bench. She sat close beside him. "Sara? Isn't Potter upset that you're here?"

"I didn't tell him," Sara admitted with a heavy sigh, "He doesn't even know I'm gone."

"How could he miss the fact that his wife is not in bed?"

"Well, for one thing, he wasn't home when I left and if he follows his usual pattern, he won't be for awhile yet. Besides, it's hard to tell if I'm in bed from his new room on the other side of the house."

"What do you mean? I_His new room?" /I_

"As of this morning. He was a bastard, so I threw him out of our bedroom."

"Sounds like your life is just as wonderful as mine, then."

"Harry has changed, Draco. He is no longer the person I married. He ignores me most of the time, but when we do spend time together, he's distant and mopey. He can be difficult to live with."

"Normally, I would make some hyper-sarcastic remark right now, but I'm sorry things are bad for you. I'd beat him up if I thought I could make a fist."

"It wouldn't do any good, anyway. He'd probably just slump his shoulders and go shut himself in a room. Either that, or he would find a way to make it I_my/I_ fault."

Sara grew silent, troubled, and stared at the ground. Draco had a feeling she was trying not to cry and he was sorry he'd pushed the subject. As an act of atonement, he drew his wand and leveled it at a pristine bloom beside him. He did the spell in his head, one he'd been practicing to turn it purple just for Sara, and watched as he got the same result he'd always gotten. With a resigned frown, Draco picked the rose and stowed his wand. He handed her the flower and Sara smiled.

"If it was any other color, it wouldn't be as special."

"If it was any other color, I'd cease to be an evil son."

Sara laughed. "Some of my fondest memories of you involve your black roses. Like that day in the courtyard at my house, when we encountered Christina sleeping on the bench and she saw the whole thing."

"You know, she never mentioned it."

"Well, you were just friends then. Plus, I was about to get married."

"True. It's just that the three of us were so awkward, sitting in the courtyard together, stammering over what to say that I was sure she'd say I_something_,_ /I_ but she never did. Actually, she's never questioned me about anything at all. Especially you."

Sara looked at Draco, tried to read what was written in his eyes and in the lines on his pale face. His expression told her he was holding something back. "What are you thinking right now?"

"I know we've never really talked about it, Sara, but I want you to know that I forgave you for killing my father."

Sara felt tears well up in her eyes as his gentle hand caressed her hair, and then brushed it back over her shoulder. With a smile, he kissed her cheek.

Sara's voice was a whisper, choked with emotion. I_"Thank you." /I_

Draco put his arms around her and she held tight to him. Sara had long ago accepted the fact that Draco would never really forgive what she'd done to him, no matter _what_ her reasons. Hearing it now, even after so many years, finally brought light to one of the darkest places her heart possessed.

"Don't cry. I never know what the hell to do," he smiled as she pulled away and he kissed her face again. "Now come on. Let's go back inside. It's getting a little cold out here."

Sara stood and helped him up. She held his arm again on the walk back to the house, and Draco let them in through a hidden side door.

"I want a drink," he said.

"You shouldn't drink! You're sick!"

"Well I'm not a complete idiot, you know! I meant muggle soda pop. I have all kinds. Want one?"

Sara laughed. "I'm sorry. I forgot about your obsession with Coca-cola."

"I don't drink that much anymore. I've tried just about every kind of soda pop there is, and I like ginger ale the best. I drank vats of Mountain Dew for a while, but I couldn't get to sleep at night. Chris said there's a lot of something in it that keeps you awake."

"Caffeine."

"That's it. Anyway, you should try this ginger ale. It's really good, though I don't know why they call it that. Chris said there isn't any alcohol in it."

"I've had it before. I don't care for it much, but I'll take one if you don't mind."

"If I minded I wouldn't have offered."

"I know. It's just that terrible habit I have of being polite."

"To hell with being polite. Here," he handed her a plastic bottle, "and don't think I'm opening it for you. Actually, I think I need some help with mine. My hands are so weak today, I don't understand it."

"Your whole body is weak, Draco. It's because you're sick."

I_"Parts/I_ of my body work just fine, thank you!"

Sara erupted with laughter as she broke the seal on his bottle and unscrewed the cap. "I should have seen that coming."

"It's from hanging around with Potter too much. Parts of your brain stop working. They did a study just last year."

Still laughing, the mention of Harry prompted Sara to lift the locator around her neck. It said he was I_drinking. /I_ She pictured him sitting alone on a stool in a seedy corner pub, drowning his sorrows, and had to hide her irritation.

"Come on; let's get you back to bed. I'll give you another potion to help you sleep."

"You're going to leave, aren't you?"

"Soon. It's nearly one in the morning, after all."

"I think you'd better stay with me, just to make sure I'm alright. I'm terribly ill, after all."

"I'll come back in the morning to check on you."

"Potter will be in his new room, Sara," he looked at her with serious eyes, "I'm not asking you to do anything except sleep beside me. That's all. Just once?"

"You know I can't do that, even though I might like to. Just to make sure you're ok."

"Liar. If you wanted to, you would have by now."

"Oh please! Coming from the master of restraint and haughty, upper-class discipline? You of all people know that sometimes, it's simply improper to just go ahead and do whatever we want. There are consequences, Draco."

He led her through the door to his room. "I know that. I just thought I would ask.I _Again." /I_

Sara lifted the covers and he climbed under them. She sat on the edge of the bed and took his hand. "I know that you're lonely," she sighed as her emotions stirred and came to the surface, "I'm lonely, too. I wish things could be different, but I'm not ready to give up on him yet."

Draco said nothing, just pressed her hand against the Amidon he still wore under his nightshirt. Warmth filled him the way it rarely did, until the chill that clung to him was shaken from his bones and chased away. He watched as Sara poured a small amount of a sleeping potion in to the cup and then gave it to him.

"This is mild, and I didn't give you much. If you have trouble sleeping, just take a little more."

He drank it and then washed it down with a swig of ginger ale. "Thank you," he whispered, I_"thanks for everything." /I_

Sara touched the little ring with the purple stones that she still wore on her pinky. The one that had come to mean so much between them.

"I'll be back in the morning."

"I'll be waiting."

She bent and kissed his cheek, smoothed his hair, and touched the key.

* * *

The kiss was electric, passionate, and Harry felt every fiber of his being come alive as she wrapped her arms around him, pulled him closer, ran her fingers through his hair. His eyes fell closed as he held her tight against him and her body arched, inviting a madness so entire, so absolute that only pure rage could be its equal. His hand found her face, her hair, and he embraced her with an immediacy that she reciprocated, an aggression that she responded to with her own mindless fervor.

And then it was over, as if someone had walked in and turned on the light. In a moment of confusion, Harry and Christina shared a look of shocked realization, pulling their hands away in shame and disbelief.

Harry said nothing, just stared at her as his mind tried to process what had just happened, tried to comprehend what it meant, and what sort of person it made him.

"Harry, this is bad. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"No!" he told her, "It's not your fault. Please, don't apologize."

"You're married."

"Yes, so I should go now." Harry climbed to his feet and helped her up. "You didn't do anything wrong." He hugged her and kissed her hair.

"Then why do I feel so awful about it?"

"You shouldn't," Harry sighed, "If it makes you feel any better, I've been wanting to do thatI _all day." /I_

"We shouldn't be friends anymore, Harry. You have too much to lose."

"Now you're being ridiculous. We just… well, we can't do that again is all. We're adults. We can control ourselves as long as we remain sober." Harry released her and went straight for his broom by the front door so he didn't have to see the look on her face, to see the misery he knew was in her eyes.

"Are you alright, Harry?"

He looked at her then, with all the honesty he possessed. "Not really. But if I don't leave right this minute, I never will."

* * *

The clock chimed one as Sara arrived back in her room, still holding the bottle of ginger ale that Draco had given her. She set it on the stand by her pillow with a hint of a smile, remembering him saying he'd induced insomnia by overdosing on Mountain Dew. Tossing her robe over Harry's chair, she fell onto the bed without finesse, landed an elbow on her hair and nearly pulled a large chunk of it clean out of her head. It had to be the millionth time a major haircut had entered her mind that year, and would become the millionth time she would decide against it. She had her mother's hair, after all, and Sara had always loved her mother's hair.

She'd planned to write in her journal, but Sara found that she was growing tired and decided instead to go to bed. It was so late, after all, and she should get up early if she wanted to check on Draco before heading to Diagon Alley. It was sure to be a long day; picking the keys up at Gringott's, then cleaning both stores. And of course, she would have to bring Draco some lunch and decide which of their house elves would be going to Malfoy Manor for a few days. Draco wasn't exactly aces at washing dishes and mopping floors. From what she'd seen, most of the house was covered in dust.

Getting back off the bed was hard, as her eyes were already growing heavy and it would have been much easier to stay there, but the locator was now tangled in her hair and she would need to wash her face before going to sleep.

"Ouch!" she cried as she lifted the chain over her head, thinking it would be easier to disentangle, and yanking a bunch of her hair out instead. She pulled and twisted it; unwove this and that, and finally got it free. Pulling the lose strands out of the chain, Sara glanced at the face of the locator and her breath stopped dead in her throat.

I_Snogging/I_

* * *

Sara didn't know how long she'd been sitting there. The locator had dropped to the floor at some point, but she had no interest in picking it up. She couldn't cry. She wanted to, but something inside her had locked, I_frozen, /I_ and she was numb, shocked, and had no idea how to feel.

Everything had come clear in a single moment. The sneaking away, the late nights, the moping, the manner in which he pushed her away. She thought of the night they'd spent together, their anniversary, when he'd come to her full of love and quiet passion and thought she might vomit right there on the carpet. It was terrible to feel so used, so I_foolish/I_ and unforgivably I_stupid_._ /I_ How I_dumb/I_ she was, imagining him drinking alone in a pub, miserable and gloomy, when he was really out hitting the town on a Friday night with I_her, /I_ whoever she was_. _It killed her to think of another woman touching Harry. They had only ever been with each other, after all. He had always been hers and hers alone! And for him to come to her bed after that filled her with disgust and self-loathing. She felt dirty. Misled. Lied to. And she didn't know how to feel about any of it.

At some point, she'd heard the front door open and close, footsteps on the stairs, a soft knock at the door. He'd called to her with his gentle, apologetic tone, but she couldn't bring herself to answer. Eventually, he went away and Sara was able to breathe again. She was sure that he thought her asleep, that he had no idea she'd been watching the locator. Harry had no idea that she knew their marriage was over.

Sleep would be best for her right now. Just go get in bed and lose her troubles in the folds of unconsciousness until morning. Her tired brain simply couldn't digest what she'd seen. She rose from the chair and was about to pull back the covers, when her eyes landed on a green plastic bottle of bubbling ginger ale and she stopped, looking at it, letting the emotions she'd been unable to feel come to the surface, filling her entire being with the agony of such misery. Betrayal was such a harsh, personal feeling, like a knife buried deep in her back, that to feel even the greatest vengeance would do nothing to lessen the hurt it caused.

There was one thing that would make her feel better,I _equal/I_ in her own mind, and it was something she knew would calm the storm she felt inside. Something she'd wanted to do in her most private thoughts since the spring of her 17th year. The dark, haunting, yet cherished, memory moved her gaze to the locked box atop the dresser.

Sara cried in silence as she held the little wooden square. Her thumb caressed the serpent inset, felt the smooth silver of her greatest weakness and drew comfort from the knowledge of what it could bring her. Sara needed comfort. It wasn't vengeance she was after, or equality of transgression, just the warmth of something more consoling than a cold and empty bed. To accept the caring arms of a friend I_without guilt._ _/I_

With a warm bottle of ginger ale in hand, Sara opened the lid and touched the key.

* * *

He was asleep as she stood beside the bed. Tears dripped from her face and Sara wiped them away. A hint of moonlight filtered in through the windows, collecting gossamer in his hair and Sara looked upon his face, so beautiful to her, so perfect, so peaceful. She envied his serenity. Forget the tortured expression she so often saw in him; forget the dark circles of sleepless nights, the misery, and the ceaseless discontent. At this moment in time, Draco Malfoy was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen and to walk away, to touch the key and return to her house of sorrow, was not something she was willing to do. On this night of crushing disloyalty, finding peace through happiness and contentment, and giving it, were her only intentions.

Sara felt all trepidation and fear leave her as she lifted the sheets and lay her head on the pillow, rolling onto her side to watch her closest friend as he slept. Draco's eyes were slow to open and a soft smile lit her face through her tears. "You wouldn't be hard to kill."

His voice was tired, soft, and quiet. "Why are you crying?"

"Never mind that now." Sara caressed his cheek and he brushed the tears from her face.

"Why are you here, Sara? Don't you remember what you said to me earlier?"

"None of that matters anymore," she sniffled, "I need a friend tonight, Draco. I can't offer you anything more than that, but I hoped you wouldn't mind just putting your arms around me for a while. Let me fall asleep feeling like someone in this cold and heartless world loves me."

Draco drew her into a fierce embrace as her tears stained his nightshirt. He held her tight as she cried and his voice was choked with emotion when he whispered to her in the darkness. "Someone I_does/I_ love you."

* * *

BDisclaimer:/B I"Slide Away" is borrowed from the Oasis song of the same name, from their album "Definitely Maybe"_ /I_

58


	4. Chapter 4: Questionable Sincerity

The Girl in the Tower 2: Seasons of Discontent Ch. 4: Questionable Sincerity

**BPART 1: SEVEN YEARS**

_**C**__**ha**__**p**__**ter 4: Questionable Sincerity/B**_

Harry was sitting at the table when Sara walked into the kitchen, dressed for the day and in search of a quick cup of liquid energy. She was exhausted, but that was no surprise. Her tired eyes met his and he tried to smile, and then shifted his gaze to his fidgeting hands, uncomfortable.

"I made breakfast," he told her, "There's tea ready if you want some."

"I'm going out," she said without a hint of emotion, "I have a lot to do today and I'm trying to be excited about it, so if you're going to be nasty, I'd prefer it if you didn't speak at all."

Harry sighed. "Sara, I_I'm sorry./I_ I don't know what gets into me sometimes."

Her mumbled sarcasm was easily overheard. I_"I wonder." /I_

"Were you going to look at the shop Snape gave you?"

"Yes."

"I know I wasn't very receptive last night when you tried to tell me about it, but I'd like to come along if you don't mind."

"You would? I_Why?" /I_

"I'd like to see it. Help out if needs be. After all, you don't know what state it's in, but I understand if you don't want me to."

Seeing him make an apologetic effort to involve himself in her interests prompted Sara to consider the idea. He was still her husband after all, and obviously, something had happened last night that was causing him to reconsider their marriage. Sara didn't like the idea of being made a fool of, or being within a hundred feet of the liar she saw before her, but something in his eyes melted some of the frost around her heart. She still loved him, I_immensely, /I_ and it disgusted her that he would take such a precious gift and then turn his back on it. However, the night she'd spent with Draco, no matter how innocent, weighted heavy on her mind. She acquiesced, though there was a part of her that was hurt and angry and wanted to scream at him.

"That would be nice, Harry."

"Sit down. Why don't you have some breakfast and tell me what you have planned for the place."

With something akin to reluctance, Sara lowered herself into a chair.

* * *

Ron paced the kitchen, stopping on every other pass to pull the yellow lace curtains aside and look out the window, searching the skies for any sign of his owl. "I don't understand. Why hasn't he answered yet? You told him it was sort-of important, didn't you?"

"Yes, Ron. I don't know why he hasn't answered except that I told Hemmingway to wait until he was alone to deliver it."

"Alone! Why didn't you just tell Hemmingway to wait until Sara wasn't around? Harry might not get the letter I_all day!" /I_

"It's just a bird, Ron. I didn't want to be over-specific and get him all confused."

"If they didn't know I_who_ was _who,_ _/I_ we wouldn't let them carry our mail! I_Now_ _/I_ what are we supposed to do?"

"We don't need I_Harry/I_ to research fog vials."

"Maybe not, but we could use his take on what Malfoy's up to. What if Azkaban can't waitI _all day/I_ for a bloodyI _owl/I_ to deliver a message? Ever think of I_that? /I_ This could all be happening I_right now, /I_ as we speak, but you don't want to I_confuse the bird?!" /I_

"Really Ron! Please keep in mind that this is just an idea that makes sense. Malfoy hasn't given us any indication that we're right, yet here you are making assumptions and acting like it's proven fact of the most urgent nature!"

"What if we I_are/I_ right? What if we're I_exactly/I_ right, but we wait too long? Malfoy bought all those fog vials for a reason, and it wasn't so he could I_hold on to them/I_ while we prove our theory!"

"Look. I'm going to Diagon Alley to see if I can get more information from that shop where Draco bought the vials. It's bound to look odd after the story I gave him, but he seemed to know what they're used for. Maybe I can at least get us pointed in the right direction. You go help your dad and I'll catch up with you later."

"Well I_that's/I_ not fair! You get to do all the snooping around and I get to fix the shed?" Ron protested, but Hermione was already out the door with a bag of books slung over her shoulder.

* * *

"I have to admit, Draco, that smug grin has me wondering. I imagine the change in your attitude can only be a result of Miss Lemke's visit last night."

"Actually, she was still here when I awoke this morning. She slept in my bed, just so you know."

Lucius raised questioning eyebrows.

"I said I_slept, /I_ Father. That's all, unfortunately. I think she had a fight with Potter or something. She wouldn't talk about it."

"A step in the right direction, Draco! These things can take time. You can't expect to tear her away from her I_husband/I_ all at once. Still, this must please you."

"It doesn't please me to see her cry, but I'm certainly glad it was me that she came to. I wish I could say I just want her to be happy, but I'm afraid I want I_me/I_ to be happy, too. "

"She belongs with you, now that I'm dead, and it seems she's beginning to see this for herself. Sara was I_meant/I_ to be a Malfoy. She even looks the part!"

"Perhaps, but I think she just needed a friend."

"And what would you say if I told you that I may have some knowledge as to what's troubling Sara?"

"And how would I_you/I_ know? I have no interest in your misguidance, no matter how well-intended."

"Have you forgotten that you hung portraits of me elsewhere? I happened to visit your other home last night," Lucius unleashed a smug grin of his own, "What I saw may very well be the ace up your sleeve."

"I hardly think I_Christina/I_ has anything to do with it! Why would you even imply that she did?"

"I would tell you, but I'm afraid I'm too distracted by whatever it is you have around your neck."

Draco smiled. "What these?" he held up two golden medallions, "These are my Medals of Valor and Heroism. The Minister of Magic gave them to me after we annihilated Voldemort. I told you about them years ago."

"And why, may I ask, are you wearing them around the house?"

"I just felt like it, I guess. After Sara left, I thought of them. I only have them because of her. I became the person who won these medals only with the hopes of deserving her company, and then I_continuing/I_ to deserve it. After somehow getting her to sleep in my bed last night, I felt like I'd earned these medals all over again, since getting Sara to sleep beside me was Ifar_/I_ more difficult than defeating Voldemort. Oh, but I also wore them because I knew they would irritate the hell out of you."

"I think the knowledge of your muggle friend will remain with me until that time when you decide to remove those offending medals. After all, in the eyes of a long line of Malfoys, they are medals of shame and betrayal, not of I_valor." /I_

Never one to let Lucius get the best of him if he could help it, Draco grinned and called to the departing image of his father. "Oh, I forgot to mention. If I die without an heir, Malfoy Manor is willed to Harry Potter."

"WHAT?!!"

"You heard me."

"How Idare_/I_ you!"

Draco went on smirking and straightening his medals.

"You'd best produce an heir and I_soon!" /I_

"Easier said then done. Have a good day, Father." A flick of his wand draped the portrait in black once more and Lucius' bellows of rage went unheard, muffled.

* * *

Christina knew the portraits moved, Draco had told her as much, but she'd never seen it in person. Only little variances here and there or a shift out of the corner of her eye. Draco had also said that they would remain still if a muggle, like her, was around.

The large portrait of Draco's father that hung in the front room was the exception. One minute he was frozen in time, the next she could swear he was watching her move about the room as she dusted. The eyes seemed to blink. Most of the time there was no expression on his face, sometimes a scowl, and sometimes, like now, a knowing smirk. Sometimes, there was nothing in the frame at all. Today, however, the attractive white-haired man was watching her. She was sure of it.

Since Draco hadn't actually lived in their house for several years, Christina decided it would be ok if she did a little redecorating. The elder Malfoy was giving her the creeps, after all, and it would do her nerves a world of good to relocate him to a nice, dark closet.

Pulling a chair over to the wall, Christina climbed upon it, contemplated the weight of the frame, and wondered if she should get someone to help. Deciding to test her strength, she placed a hand on either side and lifted. It didn't budge.

"What the I_devil?" /I_

"I've been called worse."

Christina screamed and fell off the chair, hitting the floor hard. She sat up, unhurt, her eyes wild with fear and surprise. I"_Who's there?" /I_

A soft, mocking chuckle drifted into the room and Christina looked around, terrified. I_"Who is that!?" /I_

"And they say muggles are as smart as dogs," Lucius rolled his eyes, "Get up, Christina. You're making a fool of yourself, you know."

"It's you!" she stood, gaping at the portrait, "The picture!"

"Very good. _Bravo."_ Lucius clapped his hands and smiled with amusement.

"I've lost my mind."

"Yes, it appears so. The second you stepped into the wizarding world, fitting enough, as you never belonged here to begin with."

"Draco I_wanted/I_ me here."

"For a time, I imagine he thought he did. You see, curiosity tends to get the best of pureblood wizards, and some go so far as to test the figurativeI _waters/I_ of the muggle world. Unfortunate, but true, yes, and it seems Draco had developed this particular affliction at one point in his life. You can imagine my disappointment as his father, though he appears to suffer from it no longer."

"Why do I feel insulted?"

"Don't be. Draco has superior taste, thanks to his upbringing, so perhaps you should count yourself lucky. After all, he chose you from all the other muggles, did he not? Certainly, there were specimens I_better suited/I_ to his refinement and sophistication. Better I_looking_,_ /I_ too, I assume."

"There's I_always/I_ someone I_better looking! /I_ Some determine a person's worth based on character, not social stature or appearance! People like Draco!"

"Is that so?" Lucius snickered, "Then am I to assume that you find no fault with Draco's relationship with Sara Lemke?"

"Sara is a person of excellent character. There is nothing to find fault I_with." /I_

"A person of excellent character who happens to be his equal in social stature I_and/I_ appearance. Let's not forget the fact that he turns into a drooling baboon every time he lays eyes on her. It's rather sickening if you ask my opinion."

"They're friends. She's married."

I_"Married, /I_ yes…" Lucius gave her that look of informed amusement that she was quickly growing to despise, "but perhaps you're even more of a fool than I thought."

"What are you getting at, Mr. Malfoy? I'm really getting sick of being insulted."

"Tell me, Christina, when was the last time you saw Draco?"

"Christmas. So what?"

"More than eight months ago? What if I told you that I saw him just this morning?"

"Draco is in China."

Lucius laughed aloud. "Do you really believe everything he says?"

"I have no reason to doubt him, just as he has no reason to lie to me."

"And how, may I ask, do you determine when he does and does not have reason to lie? What if I told you that Draco is not, nor has he ever been, in China? What if I told you that he resides right here in this very city, in our family home?"

"You're lying."

"You'll believe whatever you want, of course, but answer this: what is more likely? That Draco travels the world for some mysterious job, which allows him to come home for a day or two only once or twice a year, or that he is simply avoiding you? Tell me, has the time he spends here diminished gradually over the years? Or has he always been gone for such I_extended/I_ periods?"

Christina felt tears burn her eyes as she realized everything the portrait was telling her made perfect sense, and played upon her greatest fears.

"What if I told you that Draco did not sleep alone last night?"

"YOU'RE LYING!"

"Sometimes, my dear, those who exhibit I_excellent_ _character,_ _/I_ are the ones who make the most convincing liars. Every word I've said is true."

"How would _you_ know? You're just a picture! And you can only see this room!"

Lucius unfurled his sinister laugh. "Silly girl, I am able to enter any room that holds a portrait of me."

Christina was crying now. "And who was he supposedly with? Draco has too much integrity to betray me like that! I know who you're implying but it's NOT TRUE!"

His voice adopted a sympathetic tone. "As much as it I_pains/I_ me to be the bearer of bad news, I have to admit that Draco has never had the ability to see past his greatest desire. This is something you must have known all along. You've seen the photograph he keeps."

"I don't believe you!"

"Obviously, my counsel is wasted here. Continue living in ignorance if it pleases you. Good day, Christina."

With that, the painted image of Draco's father was gone, and Christina was reeling from all that was said. It simply couldn't be true! It wasn't possible! An idea struck her and she hurried to the writing desk in the room she'd once shared with Draco. The raven awoke when she burst into the room and squawked in annoyance.

Christina ignored it in favor of the quill and parchment.

_**BIDear Harry, **_

_**I have just been given the most disturbing news through a talking portrait here at the house. I can't even begin to explain it in this letter, but it claimed to know where Draco is and, well, there's more to it and it concerns you. It was implication of the most obvious sort, but I thought you would want to know straight away. I will leave it to you to determine if there is any truth to it. **_

_**I think you know how to get to the place where Draco is supposed to be. I want to see him, Harry. If he has been lying to me all these years, I want to find him. I can't even begin to tell you how upset I am right now. **_

_**I know that, after last night, asking you to come here is a bad idea, but this is information of the most sensitive nature and it really shouldn't wait another minute. I want you to know that I'm sorry about what happened. It was certainly unplanned and I can't shake the guilt I feel, even with all that I have just learned. You are a good friend to me, and one of the only people I trust completely. I would never want something so foolish to ruin that. You have my word that it will not happen again. I hope you will come as soon as you can. I will be pacing the floor until you arrive.**_

_**PS: I know this is terrible of me, but please do not share this with Sara. You will understand when I explain.**_

_**Christina/B/I**_

"Here, Raven. Take this to Harry Potter. It's private, so don't give it to him unless he's alone, but it's important, so take the first opportunity!"

Christina held her breath as the giant black bird took flight with the letter held in its beak. At once, she wondered if telling Harry what the portrait had said was the right thing to do, but she was sure Harry would want to know the truth as much as she did. Harry would know if it was a lie. Harry always knew what was best. Besides, the letter was gone. There was no turning back now.

* * *

The shop was in a little cul-de-sac just off a side street, with a wide circle of cobbled sidewalk and white, cast iron café tables in the center. It was a lovely little area that Sara didn't visit very often, but it was nice, quaint, and already felt like home. She was dismayed, however, to see that her storefront, the second door in on the left, was the only one of the lot that was unkempt and in need of paint.

Harry looked around at the mass of witches and wizards, crammed into the narrow street near-by, as Sara struggled with the key in the old lock. "When did they turn Diagon Alley into a circus?"

Sara replied as she twisted and turned the ancient skeleton key. "It does seem overly crowded today. I wonder what's going on?"

A stranger's voice from behind startled them both. "The Witch Weekly Beauty Pageant has been going on all week. Mariah Johnson just won! I was hoping she would."

Harry didn't quite know how to respond, as he was taken off guard. Sara was usually better with small talk of this sort, he was more in tune with Quidditch and the weather than beauty pageants, but the woman was looking at I_him/I,_ not Sara, and clearly expected some sort of response. "Oh. Um… do you know her? That girl that won? Mariah…?"

"Mariah I_Johnson. /I_ She's friends with one of the neighbor kids. We've had them over for tea a few times," the woman clasped her hands in front, which reminded Harry instantly of Draco Malfoy, "They just graduated from Hogwarts this past June. Mariah with top honors."

The woman, who carried a serene smile with ease, was attractive in the simplest of ways, with a hint of olive in her skin tone and hair a shade lighter than his own. He guessed she was in her early to mid-thirties, though her face didn't show her age. Instead, it held a natural kindness, a benevolence, which Harry immediately liked. The sun caught in her shoulder-length, wavy hair, and glinted off her glasses.

Harry fell silent for a moment, turning to watch the float come down the street, with none other than Mariah herself standing on top with her tiara sparkling and a sash draped over her shoulder. Harry had expected yet another Veela for some unknown reason, and smiled a bit when he saw that she wasn't blonde. Mariah was a pretty girl, that was for certain, but something in his gut warned him not to voice the fact in front of Sara. The hovering parade float drifted closer and Harry noticed that one hand waved to the many spectators; the other held the arm of a tall, athletic young man. "Is that…"

The woman grinned. "It's I_Brock Landry!" /I_

"From the England Quidditch team?"

"He'll be escorting the winner to the gala they're having tonight."

Sara gave up on the lock and turned to get a good look at Mariah and her escort before they turned the corner. I_"Brock Landry? /I_ The Quidditch star?"

The woman nodded. "They say he's the-"

"The best chaser in Europe," Harry mumbled, "Are all these people really here just for a beauty contest?"

"Sort of. I think most of them are here for Brock Landry."

"I see." Harry's attention faded as his eyes wandered over the crowd, catching glimpses of Mariah's red evening gown. It didn't occur to him to find this odd, even though it was barely noon.

The woman gave him a quizzical look, unused to being dismissed in such an odd manor. She turned to Sara, seeing Harry was preoccupied with his own little world. Sara also glanced at Harry, thinking he was being a bit rude and that his sudden 'drifting away' was unlike him.

"Forgive my husband. He's got a short attention span when a beautiful girl and a sports legend go floating past. I'm Sara."

"Lisa Rene. Nice to meet you, Sara. Would you like some help with that door? I've gotten the hang of it since Irma's arthritis set in. She couldn't get it open I_at all_ _/I_ in winter." Lisa Rene took the key from Sara and demonstrated the quirky manner in which it must be unlocked. "Hold the key like this, tilted just a hair clockwise, push up on the base, hold it there, now I_turn." /I_

Sara smiled as the door swung open. "Thanks!"

"Anytime. It might take a few days before you get it right, so if you need a hand, I own the shop next door." She indicated the neat and tidy brick-faced store they had just passed, right on the corner.

Sara's interest in Lisa went from passive to full curiosity. "You know, I'm not very familiar with this section of Diagon Alley. I'm afraid I don't know what you sell."

"Books and assorted supplies. Mostly for home schooling."

"Are there a lot of home schooled wizards? I assumed they all went to Hogwarts."

"They used to, but ever since all the problems with You-Know-Who, more and more people are keeping their kids at home. Especially after the um… I_security breaches. /I_ Now, with Dumbledore gone..."

Harry bristled at the mention of Dumbledore's passing and finally rejoined the discussion. "Voldemort is I_dead." /I_

"You don't know how much I want to believe that, but last time everyone thought he was dead, he wasn't. We simply can't take chances with our children's' lives based on rumors and hope. People are still scared."

"I assure you that Voldemort will not be returning."

"Not to argue the point, but I will always have my doubts and so will many others. Nothing is for certain. They say that he can't die, but you say that he can. How can you assure anyone of that?"

"Because we're the ones who killed him."

Lisa hesitated as she took a closer look at the man before her, beheld the intensity in his eyes, and the thin silver scar that tried to hide behind a wisp of dark hair. "Harry Potter. I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you."

Sara sighed, exasperated. "No more talk of ugliness! No more Voldemort!"

Harry became flustered. Annoying Sara was the last thing he wanted to do today. "Sorry."

Sara's expression softened when she saw that he really was. "It's ok, Harry. Hey Lisa, looks like you have a customer waiting. Perhaps we'll see you again before we leave."

"See you later and nice meeting you both." With that, Lisa Rene hurried away to greet her customer.

Harry followed Sara into the front room of the shop, which was littered with broken candles, spilling out of sagging, inadequate boxes that had split a seam or simply collapsed. They looked to be even older than the peeling, dry-rotted paper hanging off the far wall. Every surface was worn, dirt-stained.

Harry tried to smile at Sara's expression. "It'll need a bit of fixing up, I guess."

I_"Fixing up? /I_ Harry! It's a I_dump!" /I_

"Um…" he grinned, "It's worse than that, actually."

Sara was incredulous. "It's about to I_fall apart! /I_ Didn't the Toadbuckets care I_at all/I_ about their property? I can't believe how I_bad/I_ the let this get!"

"They didn't have much money, but I don't think it's even been I_painted/I_ since they built it."

"I don't think it's been I_cleaned/I_ since they built it! The I_whole place/I_ needs to be gutted! The ceiling is covered with water damage and mildew. It's bowed in the middle. The floor will need to be replaced. The walls, too. They're buckling, look, you can see every stud. It's all under an inch of I_dirt/I_ anyway."

Sara appeared so disappointed by the extent of disrepair, that Harry felt the need to put the spark back in her sense of adventure. "Let's go home real quick and change clothes. We'll rip the walls out right now. Come on, Sara, it'll be fun! It's not everyday that one gets to demolish something."

"Plaster dust in my hair? Broken fingernails? It certainly I_does/I_ sound like fun. We've got plenty of clothes if we ruin these. No need to go home. Did we bring hammers?"

Harry smiled with delight. "I believe we have a couple of hammers with us."

"Where will we put the walls? We can't just throw them into the middle of the floor with the rest of this… I_garbage_."_ /I_

"I'll see what I can do," he offered, "While I'm out, I'll drop by the post office and send a few owls. See if we can get a contractor or two in to look at this. I don't suppose we should rip the ceiling down ourselves unless we want to wind up in the hospital."

"Thanks, Harry. See if they can come today for an estimate. And they need to be available immediately." Sara's face fell with sadness as she thought of Greg Sanders, who was I_always/I_ available immediately.

Harry stepped closer and put his arms around her. "He crossed my mind, too. It's like our parents, you know. It never really goes away."

"They jump straight into the middle of my thoughts at the slightest association. Harry, Greg would haveI _loved/I_ this. I can see him bustling around, trying to do everything himself. All he ever wanted was to make us happy. I never understood his loyalty."

"His loyalty, at first, came from the fact that you gave him a chance when no one else would. It was gratitude for the most part. It grew to be friendship. His loyalty became I_our/I_ loyalty. We loved him, Sara, and we will remember him forever. I know that's worth more than money to a person like Mr. Sanders."

"He was the most unselfish person I had ever met."

"And the I_goofiest_."_ /I_

Sara smiled and finally put her arms around Harry. She didn't want him so close. Something inside her rioted against his touch, but she knew his embrace was meant as comfort and was not romantic in nature. The pain of remembering Greg Sanders was wiped away with a single word, drifting through her thoughts. I_Snogging. /I_

Harry kissed the top of her head, an old habit he'd practically forgotten, and guilt nearly overwhelmed him. The familiarity of her, the love he still felt in her touch, and the memory of her tears the night before, trampled his heart where it mattered most. "Sara…" he hesitated, "If you think I don't love you, you're wrong."

Harry pulled away and smiled before hurrying through the door.

Sara watched him go as the riot of anger and revulsion inside her turned to confusion. I_What was he doing? /I_ Why did she have her husband back, without explanation, and so suddenly? Did he feel sorry for her? Some stupid guilt over his affair with who knows who? Harry had been neglecting their marriage for more than three years and the longer it went on, the worse it got, and Sara had been on the verge of walking out this morning. It was always at these times, when she had been pushed to the edge, that he would turn into the husband she needed and missed. She both loved and hated these little moments of his. They only served to remind her of what they'd once had, and what he would again take away when the spirit moved him. The problem was, she had become so starved for his attention, that she took the smallest kindness and held it for as long as it lasted. Sara found she was incapable of pushing Harry away, no matter what he did, no matter how much he hurt her. That is, until one word had ruined everything. I_Snogging. /I_

There was no sense in standing around the shop. After surveying the small office/storage room in back, the tiny kitchenette, and the most frightening bathroom she'd ever seen, Sara went out for some fresh air. For the first time in many years, she wished she had a pack of cigarettes stashed somewhere. Her nerves were a mess. It was difficult spending time with Harry after all she'd gone through the night before. The sense of betrayal was acute and overwhelming, as was her guilt over spending the night with Draco. It wasn't guilt over the act itself, as she had upheld the vows of her marriage. Sara felt guilt because she didn't feel one bit bad about it. What she'd done was vindicated, innocent, and without regret, but she knew Harry wouldn't see it that way. Sara wasn't sure if she cared. She loved Harry, of that she was certain, but she didn't love the cold, nasty, lying cheating, bastard he'd become.

To avoid being eaten alive by acid confusion, Sara glanced around at the other shops in the cul-de-sac. Her eyes landed on one in particular and she set in motion.

She almost didn't see the man on the bench outside Slytherin Spirits and she nearly jumped out of her skin when he spoke to her. She wasn't exactly sure what he said, but he had a pleasant smile on his face and his eyes were kind, as they tried to look upon her without menace. Without I_focus. /I_

"You're drunk, sir."

The man looked at the bottle of Dragon's Fire beer he held and gave her a dazed smile. "You're kidding! I'm so embarrassed."

Sara laughed. "Can I get you some lunch? You'll be asleep within an hour if you don't eat something."

He gulped down some beer. "I'm on a diet. It's a very strict diet."

"You wouldn't happen to have any cigarettes, would you?"

"Wizards don't smoke cigarettes, that's a muggle thing."

"I was raised in a muggle setting, so I picked up a bad habit or two. I quit a long time ago, but I'm a little stressed out at the moment."

"Lucky for you I'm half muggle then."

The man called to a woman with long blonde hair who was walking away from the café with a cup of steaming something. She headed over to where he sat.

"My ex-girlfriend," he explained, "She's a muggle, but I still let her into Diagon Alley."

"What would a muggle want with wizarding shops?"

"She wants that spiced tea. She said it's just like the chai from Starbucks, except way better. Mystic makes a hell of a cup of tea."

"Warf!" the girl shook her head in disbelief, "What did I tell you about drinking during the week!"

"It's Saturday!"

"Oh. Go ahead and drown yourself then. You got beer? Why didn't you get some wine or something? I frigging hate beer."

"I thought you were getting chai?"

"I did!"

"Well then since you have chai, I got beer."

"Fine then. I have to leave anyway. I'm meeting Marty for lunch. Same time tomorrow?"

"This nice girl here is out of cigarettes."

The drunken man's ex-girlfriend turned to Sara, who must have looked as uncomfortable as she felt. "I I_hate/I_ running out of cigarettes. It frigging I_sucks. /I_ Here," she handed Sara most of a pack of Marlboro Lights, "You can have the rest of these."

"I can't take your whole pack! One is fine."

"There's another pack in my purse. Plus I have about twelve more packs in the car."

"Thank you! At least let me pay you for them."

"If you want to pay me, keep an eye on my buddy Warf here. He's trouble, this one is," she smiled at Warf, "And he's fond of skinny-dipping."

Warf grinned at the girl and Sara laughed.

"I don't think there're any fountains near-by, so he should be ok."

The woman turned to Warf and sipped her chai. "Put your hat on. Your head will get sunburned." She took the hat from the seat beside him and handed it to him. "Do you want me to come back after lunch?"

"That's ok. I'm meeting some friends in awhile. We're playing polo."

"You shouldn't be flying around on a broom and swinging a mallet after twenty beers. I'll meet you in the Leaky Cauldron tomorrow at noon."

"Ok." Warf said and the girl hurried away after smiling at Sara and giving a brief wave.

Warf took his hat back off and tossed it aside. "Want a beer?"

"Ok," Sara said and took a seat. She lit a cigarette and accepted a bottle. "She seems nice."

"She is. Little I_bossy, /I_ but nice."

Sara burst out laughing and nearly choked on her beer.

"Ever watch Star Trek?"

* * *

Two birds, one yellowish-brown and one sleek and black, took flight to follow Harry through the streets. The birds were out of place in the daylight, but not out of place in Diagon Alley.

"HEY!"

Harry turned to see a woman in a raggedy old green dress, matching worn out cape, and with shoulder-length reddish hair bearing down on him. The two birds veered away and lit on a near-by rooftop. "Yes?"

Her tone was angry and demanding. "What are you planning to put in there?!"

"I'm sorry?"

"The shop! What are you I_doing/I_ with it?"

"Oh, um… it's my wife's actually. She's a diviner."

The woman's face turned sour. "I knew it! I saw it I_days/I_ ago!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Diagon Alley is not big enough for two fortunetellers, mister whatever the hell your name is, so bugger off! You tell that I_witch/I_ to find another use for that store or sell it to someone who will!"

"I'll tell her nothing of the sort!"

"Then I'll tell her myself." She turned away, meaning to stalk off, back the way she'd come.

"Wait!"

"WHAT?!"

Harry was exasperated. "Who _are_ you?"

I_"Hawthorn, /I_ you idiot! The fortuneteller in the shop directly across from you!"

"I will speak to Sara. And I'd appreciate it if I_you/I_ didn't."

"Fine, just as long as the sign in front of her store doesn't affect I_my business!" /I_

Away she went in a fury and Harry sighed. It was turning out to be one problem after another and, even though she didn't know he'd kissed Christina last night, Harry needed to see Sara smile, if only to ease his own mind. He would need to be quick and get back to her straight away. He didn't need a jealous, rival merchant wrecking her day.

The post office was just up ahead, so Harry headed to it. The two birds attempted again to deliver their letters, but just as they were within delivering distance, Harry was joined by Padma Patil.

"Hey Harry, have you seen Parvati anywhere?"

"No," he replied, "Sorry."

"If you see her would you tell her we're leaving?"

"Sure. Nice seeing you."

"Thanks! Bye Harry!"

Off she went, but the birds were too far away to reach Harry before he went into the post office.

* * *

"You don't look like a beer drinker. Wouldn't you prefer something else?"

Sara looked up at the pretty young woman who had come out of Slytherin Spirits and now stood over her, with shiny black hair hanging over her shoulders and a hint of a smile on her face. She swiped her blunt-cut bangs out of her eyes. "Warf, put your hat on. Your head will get burned."

"This is good beer," Sara said, not wanting to sound ungrateful, "But what else do you have?"

"You look like a wine drinker to me. I just got a shipment of a nice German Riesling."

Sara's smile widened. "My favorite!"

Warf, good natured as always, protested. "Hey Slyth, get your own friends! This one's mine."

Slyth rolled her eyes. "Like she wants to drink your cheap beer and hear about Star Trek."

Sara was surprised. "You don't like Star Trek?"

"How do I know? I've never evenI _seen/I_ a muggle telley, much less watched one. Come inside. I'll get us a couple of glasses."

Sara followed Slyth inside and introduced herself. Slyth, as it turned out, had inherited the pub/liquor store from an old aunt who was too tired to run the place anymore. She had also been a student of Harry's, back when he was still teaching at Hogwarts. As Slyth talked and poured them each a glass of wine, Sara decided that she liked her very much. Slyth was fun and easygoing and she spoke to Sara as though they'd known each other for years.

Slyth handed Sara a glass and came back around the bar with her own and the bottle as well. "I suppose we should go back out. He's my best customer, and since I don't have many during the day, I don't want him wandering off to another pub. Besides," she laughed, "I rather like having him around."

* * *

Harry returned to the shop with a bewitched trashcan that transported trash to wherever it was the trash was handled. Fred and George insisted he bring it back before closing, so Harry thought they should get straight to work on the walls. The problem was, Sara was not inside the decrepit rooms. He ventured outside with Seamus Finnegan in tow, who had been visiting the Weasley brothers, having come to catch a glimpse of Brock Landry. He now wanted to see Sara's shop and, like Harry and Sara, was shocked at the amount of work it needed.

Seamus looked around with one hand shielding his eyes from the brightness. "Look Harry, there she is!"

They crossed the cul-de-sac and found Sara sitting on a bench with a slightly tipsy girl with long black hair and a visibly drunk man who appeared to be getting quite a sunburn on his head.

Sara was a little dazed as she showed Harry and Seamus a goofy grin. "Hey guys! This is Warf and Slyth. She owns this pub."

Warf teetered in his seat. "Hey, want a beer?"

They didn't have time to respond as Slyth jumped out of her seat. "Seamus Finnegan! You rotten git, I've sent you THREE owls in the past week and haven't heard a word in reply!"

Seamus stammered for a moment. "I'm sorry, Slyth! We've been so busy rounding up that last batch, that I haven't had time to get back to anyone. About aI _hundred/I_ angry customers sent me three owls in the past week!"

Harry looked surprised. "We have angry customers?"

Slyth spoke up again. "You certainly do! I got three cases of Swill last week and they weren't what they I_said/I_ they were! You try to cheat me, Seamus, and you'll be the sorriest git in Great Britain!"

Seamus turned to Harry, flustered. "I've been dealing with this all week! It seems I did the spell wrong and the whole vat was nothing but water!"

"Are you telling me that we shipped I_water/I_ all over the country and we I_charged/I_ people for it?"

"Hence, all the owls. I've had our employees out all week, rounding it up, but, well; let's just say that we've got a few dissatisfied customers."

Slyth was livid at this point. "And what do you suppose I serve my patrons? You're not the only one with dozens of dissatisfied customers!"

Seamus was turning red he was so flustered and Sara got the impression he'd been getting yelled at all week. "We're short on supply! We've got to replace everything and half of the production line is out collecting cases of I_water!"_ _/I_

Harry was now flustered as well. "Seamus, you git, I've got a million cases of Swill dating back years! Why do you think I asked you to stop sending it to me? And you kept sending it!"

Are you telling me you've got a huge store of Swill under your house I_still?" /I_

"Yes, so come over tonight and we'll start transporting it." Harry turned to the girl he vaguely remembered. "You'll have your Swill in a few hours. I'll bring it to you personally."

"Thanks, Professor! I don't know what I would have done, with the crowds here for the pageant and all, and this being the busiest night of the week for pubs, I'd have cursed Seamus straight into next year!"

"Professor? I don't hear _that_ very often anymore. I knew you looked familiar. Didn't you used to be blonde?"

"Yes, but I got sick of it."

Sara, who was well on her way to drunk, finally spoke up. "I love your black hair. It suits your look. You've got the most I_interesting/I_ style. We should go shopping sometime!"

Before Slyth could get into an animated discussion about shopping and clothes, Harry jumped in. "Sara, if we're going to tear the walls down, we need to get it done. Seamus and I have to take care of this as soon as possible, and you should stop drinking. You've asked contractors in to look at your shop, remember?"

"You don't need to stay, Harry. You and Seamus should tend to business before you no longer have one. And if I may suggest, give them all an extra case of swill if there's enough. A I_free/I_ one, that is. If there isn't, give them a coupon."

Seamus saw the brilliance of this and brightened considerably. "Hey! Great idea!"

Harry looked to Sara with apology. "You don't mind if I leave? I would rather stay if it makes any difference, but we really need to take care of this."

"Go, Harry. The walls can wait. I'll see to the contractors."

"Thanks," he said and bent to kiss her.

Sara recoiled, and then gave him a little peck.

Harry looked to her with hurt eyes. "I'll see you later. We'll draw up some plans for the shop and I'll make dinner. I promise."

Sara sighed. "Ok Harry. See you later then." She rose and kissed Seamus on the cheek. "You'd best get going."

As soon as they were gone, Sara turned to Warf. "How are you with a hammer?"

* * *

As Christina paced the floor on one side of London, Hermione came through the door of the house she shared with Ron on the other. She was excited, animate, and dropped her bag on the floor.

"Ron! Are you here? You're never going to believe this!"

"Did you find Harry?"

"No, but I think I found what we're looking for." She bent and rummaged through her bag.

"You spoke to the owner of that potions supply?"

"I did, and he pointed me in the right direction. I don't think we're wrong about Malfoy. Here it is!" She pulled a scroll of handwritten notes and a new book from her bag. Ron followed her to the careworn kitchen table. Hermione flipped through the pages of the thin manual she'd purchased and stopped on a section marked "Bottling and Storage."

"Fog vials. Ok now listen! Very few potions require the fog vial, which keeps any liquid at a constant temperature of one degree above freezing. These vials are carefully calibrated by skilled craftsmen; therefore they are usually quite expensive."

"Malfoy had a whole bag of them!"

"Shh! The most common uses for fog vials are for those few potions that must remain in stasis until they are ready to use. There are currently three classifications of potions that require them.

**BGasses:/B** ITwo types of gasses are best stabilized by a fog vial. The common smoke bomb, which poses no risk to those who come in contact with the thick, fog-like mist most often used for theatrical effects. The other is Noctris, an illegal substance which will send anyone who comes in contact with its fumes into a deep sleep for several hours. Any wizard found to be in possession of Noctris will find him or herself in front of the Gamut, as mere possession is considered premeditation of a high crime. _/I_

**BIncendiaries:/B** IExplosive mixtures require special handling, and a fog vial is ideal. Molecules in such potions are slowed by a cooler temperature, but freezing is counterindicated, as extreme temperatures may damage delicate molecular structures, resulting in unplanned detonation, a weakened result, or total ineffectiveness. A fog vial keeps potions such as Aquadrite, which is used for underwater excavation, and the difficult and unstable Incedtrite Nitriculys, stable enough for long-term storage._ /I_

**BMedical:/B** ITwo medical uses make wizarding hospitals the main consumers of fog vials. The first is the handling of blood for study or for short-term storage before a transfusion is performed. Since wizards rarely require such primitive medical procedures, blood storage is mostly utilized in medical education. One disease-treating potion requires a fog vial, though even these are not always successful in stabilizing the volatile serum used to stave off symptoms of the fatal Mortis Myalgia, an ailment of both blood and of human tissue cells. It is the rarest of magical afflictions, making its medicinal counterpart equally as infrequent._ /I_

Hermione slammed the book closed. "You see? Since I doubt Malfoy's taken up a career in medicine, he's making smoke bombs, sleeping gasses, orI _real/I_ bombs!"

"What are we going to do about it?"

"I don't know. Really I don't. We need Harry, Ron. What on Earth could be keeping him? I sent HemmingwayI _hours/I_ ago!"

"Maybe we should send another owl?"

"Don't be silly. Of course he's gotten it by now. I'm sure Harry will reply when he has a chance."

"But Hermione! This is too serious to just sit around and wait!"

"I agree. We'll just have to determine the best course of action without him."

* * *

77


	5. Chapter 5: Back to You

The Girl in the Tower 2: Seasons of Discontent Ch. 5: Back to You

**BPART 1: SEVEN YEARS**

_**C**__**ha**__**p**__**ter 5: Back to You/B**_

Christina sat on the edge of the bed, unsure of what it meant. It was after ten, many, many hours since she'd sent Harry the letter, and he still hadn't responded. Did he hate her? Was he angry? Did he really believe that they shouldn't be friends anymore? She understood if he felt that way, she knew in her heart it was best not to spend time alone together, especially after what had happened, but having Harry push her away was excruciating. And she didn't even know if it was true yet. The raven had not returned.

She needed to find Draco, but didn't know how. She couldn't fly a broom or use the fireplace, or any of those other things. All she had was the raven. And Harry.

Harry was now her only key to the wizarding world. Sara was simply out of the question. Christina felt her anger burn at the thought of one of the most beautiful girls she had ever seen and recalled the night she and Nikolae had sat over Sara's sick, sleeping body as they awaited word on Draco. I_What is she?/I_ She'd asked Nikolae, thinking Sara could not possibly be a human being, and Sara had answered from within her own mind. I_The Elemental. /I_

_IWHAT/I_ was an Elemental?? It made no sense to her. Draco had never explained. She had seen Sara throw lightning with her bare hands and she supposed that must be a part of it, but it still explained nothing. She and Sara were friends, true, but they had never been close and now Christina wanted to know what sort of person had stolen the man she loved from her, and cheated the man she respected more than any other.

Drinking was simply something that Christina never did, regardless of how bored, sad, or lonely she was, but this night called for a good stiff glass of I_something_._ /I_ The scotch she and Harry had been drinking the night before came to mind, and as much as her slightly ill stomach protested, Christina got to her feet.

* * *

The day had not been a I_total/I_ loss, as she and Warf had knocked down all of the dividing walls before his beer and her wine started causing them to miss their targets. Warf hit his thumb somehow, and also dropped the weighty hammer on his foot more than once. They'd had a great time, managed to hire two contractors, and made several friends. The evening was topped off with Warf passing out on his bench outside Slytherin Spirits as Sara partied it up inside with Mystic, who owned the café in their cul-de-sac, and a large Saturday night crowd. Slyth was a riot as a bartender and Sara had not wanted to leave. However, Harry had promised to make her dinner, it was after nine, and so she grudgingly headed home.

And it was all for nothing! Instead of dinner, she'd arrived to find a note saying he and Seamus would be working longer than expected, and how sorry he was, and blah blah blah. Sara wondered if Seamus was home in bed. Did it really take that long to deliver cases of Swill? Slyth said that Harry had indeed dropped off four cases shortly after he'd originally left, and that he was in a mad hurry to leave. They _did_ have dozens of people working for them; she couldn't imagine they were making every single delivery themselves. Must be Harry had somewhere to go. Someplace that wasn'tI _home. /I_

Sara stumbled and fell against a wall trying to get into her room. "Oops!" she said and spent far too long getting the door locked behind her. He wasn't coming in, not if she could help it. Miserable, lying wretch that he was. She finally understood the bullshit sincerity he'd shown her today. He wanted to have his cake and eat it, too, and she was damned if she'd stand for it. A quick check of the locator pushed her anger to the edge of reason. I_Drinking. /I_

Sara jabbed the key into the old jewelry box atop her dresser and flung the lid open. What she wanted was right there on top, black, matte wood with a silver serpent inlay. She grabbed it, flipped it open, and touched the port key inside.

"Miss Lemke! I've been expecting you."

"Who cares. Where's Draco?"

"I think you'll find him in the lab," he smiled, "Making a potion."

"Well? Do I I_look/I_ like I know where it is?"

"Insobriety and a harsh tone do not suit you, my dear," he raised an eyebrow as he gave her the once over, "but I have to say, that little nightgown certainly does."

"Just cut the crap and tell me where it is!"

"Sit down. There's something I want to tell you. I think you'll take quite an interest."

"Bite me." Sara slurred and stormed out of the room.

Through the lobby she traveled, calling to Draco, but there was no reply. She hadn't spent enough time in the vast mansion to know her way around, but a door she remembered well stood open, and a soft light issued from deep within the cellar.

Sara was careful on the stairs, conscious of her unsteady feet and afraid of the instability in her step, so she held the rail with both hands.

Once more on solid ground, she took a left down a long corridor, glancing with bitter memory at the cell where Narcissa had been held so long ago. The room at the end of the hall cast the warm glow of fire into the otherwise dark and empty passageway and Sara hurried toward it, bumping into the wall here and there.

Draco sat on an old wooden chair with his back to the door and his head in his hands, as if he was crying or had lost hope. On the table sat several odd looking, empty vials and a cauldron.

"Draco."

He started and turned, then sighed when he saw who it was. "Sara! You scared the hell out of me!"

"I'm so very sorry. I didn't mean to."

"You're drunk!"

"And I don't mind one bit."

Draco chuckled. "Neither do I, I suppose."

"I haven't been drunk in years. Little tipsy here and there, but I am definitely beyond tipsy. I haven't been drunk in years!" she repeated.

"You deserve it then." Draco knew she was still troubled, he could see it in her eyes, and he knew why for the most part, so he thought it best not to bring it up. After all, the motto of Hogwarts wasI _never tickle a sleeping dragon/I_ for a reason, and that's because it was good advice. "I have to admit, I'm surprised you're here. I didn't think I'd see you again for at least six more months."

Sara wandered farther into the room and peered into the cauldron at thick, greenish-brown goo. "What do you think you're making?"

"I just can't seem to get it right. It's the most difficult potion on Earth, I think. And when I I_do/I_ get it right, I can't manage to store it for more than a few days."

"But what is it?" she glanced at several more cauldrons bubbling over the flames, "You're making enough of it."

"Nothing exciting. Come on. Let me take you back upstairs. It's damp down here." Draco put an arm around her waist to keep her steady, and was surprised when her arm wrapped around him as well. She leaned against him and his heart started to race. After all these years, he thought, such adolescent reactions should have faded. He was beginning to realize that they never would. At least not when Sara was so near to him.

She smiled up at him with such sweetness that he was moved to kiss her and didn't.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yes," he lied, "Much better." The truth was, he'd spent most of the day in bed, doped up on the potions she'd left for him and had only risen two hours ago.

Sara expected to be led back to the study and was dreading Lucius, but Draco helped her up another flight instead. The fire was still going strong in his bedroom and even Draco found it to be a little too warm. He left her in the middle of the room, so she could decide for herself where she wanted to sit, and opened the balcony doors for some air. As he'd hoped, she collapsed on the bed, arms splayed above her head as if she was about to make a snow angel. Draco picked her up and moved her to the pillows, then climbed onto the bed beside her.

"Sara? Are you alright?"

"Peachy."

"Are you passing out on me?"

"Just wishing I was someone else. Someone who knew exactly what she wanted, who always made the right choices."

"And what would those choices have been?"

"I only know that I made the wrong one."

"Sara, what's bothering you? You need to tell me so I know how to help you."

She laid her hand against his face, tracing the line of his jaw with an amorous caress. "You can't help me, Draco."

He placed his hand over hers and held it against his cheek, relishing the warmth of a touch he felt so rarely. "So tell me I_anyway_._ /I_ After your speech the other night about how we used to confide in each other and all that, maybe you should take your own advice."

Sara burst into tears and rolled over until her forehead lay against his chest and he put his arms around her. "Everything will be fine," he whispered, "I'm right here."

Her words were high-pitched and choked with emotion as she shook with sobs. "I can't tell you how it feels to trust someone completely, only to find out you were wrong. I feel so I_stupid." /I_

"What did he do?" Draco grew angry, "Sara, if he hurt you I swear on my father's grave, I'll I_kill/I_ him!"

"It's not important," she sniffled and the sudden storm began to subside as she tried to calm herself, "Just… don't let go of me, at least for a few minutes. It's been so long since I've felt like someone loved me."

Draco pulled her closer and kissed her head with heartfelt compassion. "That's not true. You felt like someone loved you just last night. You were here, remember? Where I_someone/I_ will I_always/I_ love you."

Sara crumpled his shirt in her fist, pressed it hard against his back, and clung to him as tears leaked from her eyes. "I don't know how he could do this to me."

Draco's heart sank. "Did he hit you?"

"Of course not. It's worse than that.I _Far/I_ worse. I think I would have preferred that he hit me. It would have been less hurtful."

His voice dropped to a sympathetic whisper. "Is Harry cheating on you?"

Sara broke down into some of the most painful sobs Draco had ever heard and he knew he had his answer. Fury boiled inside him and he longed to take her port key and curse Harry Potter with every single bit of Dark magic he'd ever known, but he couldn't do that. Sara pressed against him like a broken child, crying in a way he had never seen, and in need of her closest friend. "I'm right here," he whispered as he stroked her hair, "I won't let go of you."

* * *

Harry wiped the sweat from his brow with the edge of his shirt, now covered in dirt from hauling boxes between the cave and the Swill Factory for ten hours straight. Apparating I_once/I_ was hard work, so he and Seamus had taken turns at it and they were both about to collapse from exhaustion. Of course, they used their wands to lift the boxes, but then had to hold them in their arms until they arrived and by the end of the night, Harry thought his arms might just be made of spaghetti.

It also didn't help that Seamus kept passing him the bottle of Swill he'd opened around dinnertime. Harry had taken only the smallest sips, but Seamus was drunk and raving, carrying on about the manual labor and the stupidity of eliminating quality control and how arrogant he'd become over his own rum-making abilities. Harry had to agree with all of it.

Harry sank to the floor of the cave beside Seamus, who'd sat down long ago, and accepted the bottle. At last, with their work done, Harry took a good long swig, as thirsty as he was filthy, and let his head fall against the wall.

Seamus gave a heavy sigh. "I missed band practice. The guys are going to kill me! We've got our first gig next Saturday!"

I_"Band practice? /I_ Sara's going to I_hate/I_ me! You heard me promise to make her dinner! Now here it is, nearly eleven!"

"Sorry mate, I guess I should have told you days ago, but I thought I could handle it myself. I've been screwing everything up lately, haven't I?"

"I think there might be some truth to that."

"At least Sara was there when Slyth was screaming at me. She knows we had to get this done."

Harry sighed. "Somehow I don't think that's going to matter."

"I know what you mean, mate. Susan I_already_ _/I_ wants to kill me after all the time I've been spending in rehearsal with Dead Nexus, and now this! Sometimes I think it would be better if we lived in separate houses."

Harry laughed and adjusted his glasses. "That would be ideal, wouldn't it?"

"Can you imagine? Come and go when you please. No one waiting to nag me the second I walk in the door," he raised his voice to mimic Susan's_,I "Seamus! You were supposed to do everything under the sun because I can't be bothered! Seamus! Where are you? What are you doing? Where are you going? How long will you be gone? Seamus! You're late! You said you'd be home an hour ago!" /I_ His voice returned to normal. "It's enough to drive me bloody insane, Harry! At least I_you/I_ didn't marry the wicked witch!"

Harry's laughter fell away. "No," he sighed, "Just the opposite, really. Sara never asks me where I've been or when I'm coming home. I kind of wish she would sometimes, but I really don't think she cares anymore."

"I can't say I haven't noticed some distance there, mate. I hate to tell you this, you're two of my best friends, but your anniversary party was worse than an entire week with Susan's mother. I'm not sure if you noticed, since you didn't actually seem to be I_present_,_ /I_ but as soon as what's-her-name left, your entire guest list practically stampeded out the door."

"I only noticed when Christina left. Next thing I knew I was alone and that was just fine with me."

"I noticed Malfoy didn't make it again this year. Third year in a row he's sent his girl by herself, isn't it? You know, I feel sort of bad for her," Seamus admitted, "She's so nice, and she's stuck with a repellant prat like Malfoy. She can't be _too_ upset that he's never around."

"She's definitely better off without him."

"Who wouldn't be? The I_whole world/I_ would be better off without him!"

Harry thought it was a good time to change the subject. "So what is it you do with the band again? What was the name?"

"Dead Nexus, after the old drummer. This incredible git, Nexus, just stops coming around to practice, so Lyman decided he was dead and I got his spot. Neville was already playing bass guitar with them, or else I never would have gotten in, but don't tell him I admitted to that or he'll never shut-up about it. It gets us away from the girls for a few hours here and there, though I have to say, Mary's a bit more accepting than Susan. Mary makes us sandwiches and tarts and sends them along. You know, Harry, I never thought I'd say this, but I am completely jealous of Neville Longbottom."

Harry laughed. "Well, in that case, I think it's time you stopped drinking, Seamus. Besides, it's getting late and we aren't going to have homes to go to if we don't get on our way."

"But Harry, you _are_ home! I_Now/I_ who needs to stop drinking! All you have to do is walk up the bloody stairs."

Harry and Seamus shared a good, long laugh, and the rest of the Swill.

"Yeah, but Sara doesn't know that. If she looked at the locator right now, it would say I was drinking!"

"You'd be in a world of trouble then, Harry! Ten galleons say you're locked out of the bedroom by midnight."

Harry didn't have the heart to admit that he was I_already/I_ locked out of the bedroom. I_Permanently. /I_

Seamus went back to his version of Susan's voice. I_"Seamus! I've been waiting for you for two hours! I needed help levitating the groceries and I finally just DID IT MYSELF!" /I_

Harry laughed so hard that Swill nearly came out of his nose, but he laughed with a heavy heart. He knew he'd let Sara down, I_again_,_ /I_ and that he was right back to square one. He climbed to his feet and offered Seamus a hand up.

* * *

"I thought you were asleep."

"No, just thinking," admitted Sara, who's voice was even more slurred than when she'd arrived, "I don't want to go home anymore. I want to stay here with you, Draco."

"I would like that more than you know, but I think that's a decision you should make in the morning. Stop thinking. It won't help anything right now."

Still snuggled close against him, Sara sighed and kissed his neck. "You're so good to me."

"I always will be."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"I think it's you that I've loved all along."

"You're drunk. You don't love me that way."

"Yes I do."

"Ok."

"Now you're making fun of me!"

"I am not! I just don't think that your head is clear at the moment. In the morning, when you're sober, you'll wake up and love me as a friend again."

Sara pushed him away and climbed to her unsteady feet. "You're as bad as Harry! Always I_humoring/I_ me!" She again burst into tears and stormed out of the room. Bouncing once off the doorframe, she stumbled down the stairs, holding the rail with both hands.

"SARA!" Draco shouted, "WAIT!" His pulse was racing as the thought of her touching the key and leaving leapt into his mind. He rolled across the bed and landed on running feet, pursuing her with fear in his heart. "Sara STOP!"

He could hear her banging into things and simply followed the noise. Something shattered in the study and Draco, who was rather ill and lacking energy, sprinted after it.

She stood in the middle of the room with the port key open in her hands as tears dripped from her face. She shivered with cold and with emotion.

His tone was gentle and his manner caring. "Stop," he said and hurried to her side, taking the small box away and dropping it back on the table. She'd come without so much as a robe and it had grown so cold with the night that Draco wished he had something to throw around her shoulders. His arms would have to do and he held her so tight against him that he figured she probably couldn't breathe. He didn't care, as long as she was still I_here_. _/I_ As long as she knew how affected he'd been by her harsh words. "Sara," he said and kissed her hair, "don't ever do that to me again. I don't care how drunk you are; don't _ever_ run away from me." Draco released her enough to look her in the eye. "I'm I_nothing/I_ like Potter. Make no mistake."

Lucius sat frozen in his frame as the slightest hint of satisfaction lifted the corners of his otherwise expressionless mouth. He remained silent and still, not wanting to remind the two people before him of his presence.

"I don't know why I said that, Draco, I'm sorry."

"It's alright. You just scared me when you ran out of the room. I thought you'd be gone before I could get to you."

Lucius rolled his eyes.

Sara placed her gentle hand against his cheek. "I I_do/I_ love you, Draco. I wish you could believe it."

"I do, Sara. If you say you do, then I believe you."

Sara tilted her head and went up on her toes as she kissed him, her hand slipped into his long hair and tangled there.

Draco returned the kiss, but kept it respectful. It lingered a long moment, and then he pulled away. "Not like this, Sara," he whispered and held her close again, "Not drunk."

An unexpected voice bellowed like a startling crash of thunder from behind. "Have you I_lost your mind?"_ _/I_

Draco was shocked to have forgotten such a sinister presence. "Father! Have you no I_decency? /I_ Sara and I are having a private discussion, in case you hadn't noticed!"

"Draco, I'm beginning to think that you're mentally challenged."

Draco ignored the image of his father. "Come Sara, it's warmer upstairs. You're freezing."

Sara was so unsteady that when he backed away she nearly fell over. Knowing he was risking total physical collapse, Draco, whose fever was creeping back like London fog, lifted Sara in his arms and carried her upstairs. His legs many times felt as though they might give out, his knees kept trying to buckle, his arms eventually tried to make him drop her, but he told himself it was only a few more steps and soon lay her down on the pillows once more.

Draco pulled the covers over her thin frame, closed the balcony doors, and charmed the fire before sliding in beside her. Sara, he was glad to see, was sound asleep. He brushed the hair from her face and smiled as he looked upon his heart's desire. His thoughts, he pushed from his mind to hers.

I_Someone loves you, Sara, /I_ he said, I_I won't let go of you. /I_

* * *

Harry held his breath as he tapped on the bedroom door, closed and locked as he'd found it last night. Once again, he was met with no reply.

"Sara? I didn't mean to be so late. We've just been downstairs in the cave this whole time, moving boxes."

He waited and heard nothing on the other side of the door.

"Sara? I'm really sorry. I didn't realize it was going to take so long. Seamus had the employees delivering to all the muggle stores, so we had to do everything else ourselves. I know I said I would make you dinner and I didn't mean to break a promise. I can fix us something now if you want?"

Nothing.

"Sara, please don't be mad. There was nothing I could do!"

Nothing.

The doorbell rang and Harry sighed over his inability to please Sara. Sometimes, he thought, he didn't know why he bothered trying. He'd already done so much damage to their relationship that he didn't really blame her for having so little patience for his screw-ups anymore. Harry gave up and went to see who was calling at such a late hour.

As this was the first time that Harry had been alone for more than a few seconds all day, the two birds were frantic to deliver their messages. They swooped down on Harry as he approached the front door and dropped the confidential letters in his hands. The bell rang again, so Harry stuffed the letters in the pocket of his shorts and hurried into the atrium.

"Nikolae!"

"Good evening, Harry! I hope my late arrival is of little or no bother to you?"

"Of course not! Please, come in, you've had a long journey, I'm sure."

"That I have. Thank you, Harry. You are gracious as always."

"We haven't seen you in months! What brings you on this of all occasions?"

I_My Nikita needs me, /I_ he thought. "Just a visit. I must say, I have missed this house, as well as the people in it!"

"The people have missed you, too!" he glanced down at his dusty, dirty attire, "You'll have to excuse me. I just got back from working with Seamus. I'll go get Sara."

"Don't wake her."

Harry lifted the locator. "Oh! She's sleeping! No wonder she didn't answer."

Nikolae knew why Sara didn't answer, but said nothing.

"Will you be staying? I hope so. Besides, Sara will be really upset if she misses you."

"If it's of convenience to you."

"Of course it's of convenience! Your room is just as you left it, except Sara got you a new couch and a bookcase."

"Thank you, Harry. You're tired. I won't keep you, but since it was my intension to arrive from Romania as early as possible, I have not yet fed. Would you mind if I come back in a few hours?"

"Come and go as you please. Make yourself at home, as always."

"Goodnight, Harry. I will see you tomorrow evening."

"I will definitely look forward to it. Goodnight, Nikolae."

Harry smiled and climbed the stairs, relieved that Sara was asleep, not ignoring him. As he entered his new room, Harry caught a glimpse of the Peter Pan print and it upset him to find Christina on his mind. He was exhausted, too tired to shower, and dropped his filthy clothes on the floor before collapsing on the bed. It had been a long time since he'd met with a hard day's work.

* * *

Snape leered at Spooky with a suspicious eye. "I hope, for your sake, that she waited this long to respond. If you were I_taking your time/I_ I'll know it!"

Spooky spat the letter at her owner and returned to her perch. Snape had waited two entire days for Sylvia's reply and he could hardly wait to see what she had to say. It had been three long months since they'd spoken, after all.

_ISeverus,_

_I have to admit, my first inclination was to set your letter on fire, but after a moment's thought, I found I was curious as to why you would write to me after all this time, especially since I told you, in plain English, not to! _

_Yes, I am still upset over your lack support in this matter with which I have been entrusted. I asked for your help, nothing much, just some potions expertise and the acquisition of fog vials, but that was too much to ask! Am I supposed to believe that you are now willing to extend this favor? HA! I no longer need your help. It's been taken care of so forget it!_

_I am surprised to hear that you miss me. You were so furious the last time I saw you that I swore I'd never speak to you again. But the truth is, I need to see you. Meet me for lunch tomorrow in Diagon Alley. The Leaky Cauldron is too crowded, but there is a place called Mystic's Café over by Madam Malkin's. I will be there at noon._

_Sylvia/I_

Snape was so excited that he could hardly contain himself, but the image in his wardrobe mirror reflected the same old Severus. Black, jaw-length hair over pale, sallow skin, ballooning waistline under an all-black selection. The only difference was the slight smile that transformed his usual expression of irritated misery.

He was careful as he chose the clothes he would wear for their meeting, trying everything on for fit before selecting it, checking for weak threads and loose buttons. When he had finished, it all hung neatly on hangers from the coat tree.

As Snape hurried to his lab, he wondered if such a potion was a good idea. It was a little ridiculous in his mind, and he was sure Sara would laugh like crazy if she knew what he was making, but it didn't matter. As long as Sylvia didn't know, then it would be worth it.

* * *

I _Let me in. /I_

Draco opened his eyes in the dark and listened as Sara slept beside him. It had been a long time since he'd heard the voice, but he recognized it as though it was yesterday.

I_I once showed you how. Do you remember?_

_I remember everything, Master Malfoy, but I would never enter your home without your consent._

_My consent you have. /I_

It was only a few moments before Nikolae found Draco on the second floor. The vampire let his eyes linger on Sara, still curled against Draco in her nightgown, and sound asleep in a cloud of intoxication.

"I don't want to wake her up."

"She will not wake. Come, Draco, sit with me by the fire. There are things that we need to discuss."

Draco slid from the bed with care and hurried to where the vampire had taken a seat. "She came here on her own," he tried to explain; "She was upset."

"I know."

"She's drunk."

"This I also know," Nikolae sighed, "There is another matter that weighs heavy on my mind. Something I saw in Sara's thoughts when I reached out to her earlier. Something I now understand through I_your_ _/I_ thoughts."

"She's just upset! I haven't touched her, I swear!"

"That is not my concern at the moment. I was speaking of the potion you were brewing." Nikolae looked Draco in the eye. "When are you going to tell her?"

Draco slumped in his seat, dreading the idea of having this conversation with I_anyone at all. /I_ His voice was pained and quiet. "I can't."

"You have to."

"Why? I don't understand why I can't just let things go on as they always have. No one needs to know the direction my life has taken. Sara would never look at me the same way again."

"You don't know that. There are people who can help you."

"No one can help me and you know it! It's just like when I was under Voldemort's boot. There was no hope. That hopelessness had returned full force, only the boot has changed."

"Have you forgotten, Draco, that when you were with Voldemort, it was your friends who saved you in the end?"

"Sara was the one who saved my life and no, I haven't forgotten it. If you're talking about Potter, it wasn't so much I_me/I_ he was saving, but rather he was saving himself from a lifetime of guilt."

"They I_all/I_ saved you! I_Unselfishly/I_ might I add?!"

"That may be true, but they can't save me this time. No one can. I wish you wouldn't tell her anything. There will come a time when I won't be able to hide it anymore and if she asks me, I won't lie to her. Until that day, let it rest."

"Let it I_fester, /I_ you mean. I will keep your secret, of course, as I am bound to do so, but I beg of you, I_listen_ to me._ /I_ This is something that should not be hidden from those who trust you most," Nikolae glanced at Sara's sleeping form, "She will resent you for it. You know this just as I do."

Draco lowered his head, confused and ashamed. His head found his hands and he tried to hide the tears he could not control.

Nikolae's cold hand fell, gentle, on Draco's shoulder. "There is time, my friend, and I will not leave you to face the darkness alone."

* * *

Christina sat before the portrait with a drink in one hand and a tissue in the other. Draco's father was telling her all I_sorts/I_ of things that she wished she'd known all along. Like the fact that Draco had said that his relationship with her had been a I_mistake_._ /I_ She thought there just might be a knife sticking out of her chest. At least it I_felt/I_ like there was.

Sara was with Draco right now, this very moment, according to Lucius Malfoy, and she was spending the night with him I_again. /I_ Lucius said that Sara had run out of Draco's room half-dressed, but Draco caught her before she could get far, and actually I_carried/I_ her back to his bed. The knife in her chest twisted and Christina could barely speak through her tears.

"It's obvious what's going on, then. She isn't just visiting as I'd hoped."

"I would say not. I'm sorry to have to tell you, as you are so upset already, but I did see her kiss him earlier." Lucius smiled as her breath hitched and she wiped at her eyes.

Christina stood in drunken, jealous fury and threw her glass to the floor where it smashed in a pool of amber. "WHY ARE YOU I_TELLING/I_ ME THIS?"

Lucius bowed his head, as if searching for the right words. His sympathetic reluctance gained even more of her trust. "I'm terribly sorry, Christina, but I have seen you waste year after year in this house, waiting for someone to return. Someone who I know no longer cares for you. I'm upset by my son's actions. I apologize for him, but I simply could not stand to see you continue to waste your life."

Christina lowered her head and cried, falling back into the chair without grace.

"Find someone new. Someone who will appreciate your company. Who will care enough to I_be here/I_ for you."

Christina found she could not look at him as the knowledge of what she had to do took shape. With Harry on her mind, Christina studied the floor. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I appreciate your honesty." She rose from the chair without meeting his eyes and hurried from the room.

* * *

Nikolae stood and put his back to the fire. He smiled at Draco and extended his hand. "We have had a good talk, my friend."

Draco remained in his seat, but shook the vampire's hand with the sincerity of a warm smile, the sort of smile that would be seen by less than a handful of people throughout his entire life.

"That we have, Nikolae. You are _beyond_ welcome here; I want you to know that, though I'm afraid that I will probably always give you an argument."

"I would have it no other way," Nikolae smiled, "I hate it when people do nothing but nod. You force me to think, Draco, and as impossible as you can sometimes be, I always look forward to our next meeting. You have a very unusual outlook on life and the I_attitude_ _/I_ to go along with it. Have I ever told you that you would make an excellent vampire?"

"I already I_feel/I_ like the walking dead, so why not? Bite my neck, then. Go on, I haven't got all night."

Nikolae smiled, but watched as the deeper, almost-hidden layers of Draco's mind contemplated the idea with a tone more serious than the one he'd used to speak. "Unfortunately, vampires tend to come to terms with the lives they've been handed, and most of your strengths come from your refusal to accept anything less thanI _exactly/I_ what you want." Nikolae glanced again at the sleeping form on the bed. "So ask yourself this; I_what happens/I_ when those things you hold most dear fade from nature, but you do not?"

Nikolae locked his eyes on Draco's and pushed a single image into his mind.

Draco understood at once. He could never forget the face that he now saw for the second time. Flawless, haunting, beautiful. Pretty, violet eyes, so much like Sara's, peered at him from beneath satin locks of raven hair, her skin like porcelain in the moonlight. Draco's eyes fell closed and he whispered her name.

_IAntonia. /I_

When he opened them, the vampire was gone.

* * *

87


	6. Chapter 6: Fascination Disenchanted

The Girl in the Tower 2: Seasons of Discontent Ch. 6: Fascination Disenchanted

**BPART 1: SEVEN YEARS**

_**C**__**ha**__**p**__**ter 6: Fascination Disenchanted/B**_

Christina tried not to think too much as she drove through a sea of fog in the dark. It never occurred to her that she was intoxicated and should not be driving a car, especially in poor conditions, but the need to get as far away from her life as she could overwhelmed reason. She'd taken only a few belongings in an old travel bag that Draco no longer used, repulsed by the idea of keeping things that had come from him or from his money. Clothes, a photo album, mementos from the theater, and a bottle of wine were now her only possessions. As well as the necklace Draco had insisted she always wear. Christina had no idea why this one item had become the exception, but something made her keep it around her neck as she walked out the door for the last time.

The fact that it was hard to see the road was not enough to slow her down. It was if the car was propelled by her need to flee and her desire to escape the things she'd known all along. The words of Draco's father haunted her thoughts, the pain and resentment she felt fueled the anger that burned within her, and the very thought of Harry's indifference toward her letter spawned the tears that blurred her vision. Home was her destination, the home she'd known all her life and she couldn't get to Manchester fast enough. She could only hope that her mother still lived in the same ratty flat in which Christina had grown up. If not, she'd brought her savings, a few thousand pounds from the plays she'd been in over the years since she'd met Draco. It was enough to get a cheap hotel room until she found her mother, and a job. If one or both of those took longer than expected she might be out on the streets again, but so be it. Perhaps it was where she belonged.

It was with that thought that the world crashed in an explosion of glass and the thunder of noise and everything went black.

* * *

The amber light of dawn cast pale shadows across the room and a soft smile touched his tired eyes as Draco lay still, watching Sara sleep. These were moments he'd spent so much time dreaming about over the years, moments he thought would never come to pass, that they hardly seemed real. Waking to the sight of the one he held most dear brought such light, such I_warmth/I_ to the cold, dark place in which he dwelt, that he could almost mistake it for happiness. Her presence was the remedy for the gray and hopeless existence he called his life and he savored the contentment he felt, knowing that despair and loneliness would invade him the moment she was gone.

The things she'd said in the night played over and over in his mind. He wondered if she would remember when she woke, that she'd wanted to leave her home by the sea and come live with him, that she loved him, that she'd made a mistake by marrying Potter. He knew she'd had no idea what she was saying at the time, but the thought of any of these things being even the slightest bit true sent his hopes so high that it was frightening.

Draco let his eyes linger on his only friend, watching the slow rise and fall of the blankets, letting the sound of each breath caress his ears and thinking every detail was pure perfection. Draco thought that slipping from the bed and creeping out of the room was madness, he wondered what he would do if he returned to find her gone and he hesitated in the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder. Part of him expected her to have vanished, just a dream, a mirage of something he wanted too much. A smile touched his expression when he saw that she remained.

Passing through the main floor, Draco let his paranoia get the best of him and wandered into the study, where he found her port key. If he kept it with him, she couldn't leave without saying goodbye. He tucked it into the pocket of his robe, glanced once at his father's portrait, thankfully empty, and hurried down the stairs to the cellar.

The room at the end of the hall was ablaze with firelight and warmer than the corridor. The ache he felt in every muscle and every joint subsided a bit, but Draco was now feeling so wretched with sickness that any improvement was noticeable, no matter how slight. He let the heat wash over him as he bent to check the last of seven cauldrons, bubbling over the fire.

Fully expecting greenish-brown sludge, Draco was delighted to find a liquid the perfect shade of iridescent yellow and let himself feel little excitement, knowing it could all turn to goo when he poured it into the many fog vials that lined the worktable. Levitating the cauldron, Draco worked fast, knowing that Sara could wake at any moment and he would never forgive himself if she opened her eyes to find he had left her. He hadn't expected a potion as precise as this, it was by far the best one he'd made over the many months since he'd started brewing batch after batch of worthless slime, so he hadn't planned to be gone as long as he would need to be. However, the potion had never been as important as it was this day. He would bottle it with haste, but not with recklessness.

* * *

The start of term was still more than a week away, but Severus was up at first light, not that he knew it was first light in the dungeons, but it was impossible to sleep another minute.

It was odd, walking around the corridors in his pajamas, but since Argus had gone to visit his mother, Hagrid was in France again, and Minerva wouldn't be back for several more days, he was stuck babysitting the school. There were times when he thought he should simply sell his house and become a permanent resident.

Luckily, the potions lab wasn't far. The corridors were freezing, unheated this time of year, and Snape hurried toward the warmth of a burning fire, wishing he'd stopped for his robe. His lab was always warm, sometimes I_too/I_ warm, but on a chilled morning such as this, the higher temperature was welcome.

He was pleased to find that the three potions he'd been brewing since yesterday were done. He still thought it was silly, but he looked like the fleshy-white underbelly of an over-stuffed whale and there was no way he could meet Sylvia with such an unattractive appearance. She would never want him back in this current state, of that he was certain. Sylvia was svelte and thin and wouldn't appreciate his blubbery gut, his flabby arms, his chipmunk cheeks _or_ his double chin.

Snape measured out portions and inspected them one last time before daring to drink. Two of the three he'd never made before. The third was something he'd brewed for Sara many times, especially when she'd been confined to the tower more than a decade earlier. It was this that he chose to take first, and watched the impressive golden liquid glimmer and swirl in the cup before drinking it down. Moving to the full-length mirror he'd wheeled into the lab, Snape watched as his skin bronzed and darkened with a healthy, magical suntan. After only this one improvement, he looked better, alive with vitality. He gave his image a nod of approval and went back to the second cup.

This one was an odd shade of green and smelled funny, but down it went in one gulp. It was the one he'd worried over the most, and he could only hope it worked as well as he'd hoped it would. He got his answer soon enough. Before he could even reach the mirror to watch the transformation, there was an unpleasant crawling sensation beneath his skin and Snape cringed with the feeling. Standing once more before the mirror, his smile grew as the layers of fat he'd spent so much time packing on melted like chocolate on a hot summer day. His frame grew thinner and thinner, surpassed his normal weight, and his pajamas dropped around his ankles. Snape stood in shock for a moment, then grabbed them and wrenched them up around his waist again. He glanced at the door, red faced and embarrassed, until he was assured no one had seen. Of course, this fear was irrational since he was the only person in the building save for a few house elves, but it would be just his luck to turn and find Minerva standing behind him. Luckily, he was spared.

Just as he began to get nervous, watching his skin conform around thin muscles he hadn't seen since his teenaged years, the melting and thinning finally came to a stop. Snape turned this way and that, admiring a new, sinewy appearance. Excited now, he hurried back to the third and final potion, threw it back, and traveled back to the mirror with haste. Expecting something to go terribly wrong, since everything so far had gone exactly to plan, Snape held his breath as those meager muscles grew larger, turning what was scrawny and weak into a well-formed, attractive, athletic build. He couldn't believe his eyes. He looked fantastic! In this moment of delighted contemplation before the mirror, Snape decided one thing. He would be taking these potions every morning until the day he was no longer able to swallow. There was only one problem. The clothes he'd selected, a very nice outfit sent by Sara last year, would no longer fit. They would hang from this new, thin frame and if he was going to have a body such as this, then he was certainly not going to hide it under baggy clothes.

Snape hurried back to his room. He would need to pay Sara a visit.

* * *

The tall, gaunt doctor, who was the brother of a muggle-born wizard, rose from the chair beside the bed. His face was grave and apologetic all at once, as muggle machines bleeped, clacked, and beeped around him. "Minister Smidgeon. I'm glad you could get here so quickly."

"Please, call me Julian," Smidgeon waved away the formality, making sure the door to the small room was secure behind him, "My office said something about an injured person, but I don't see what that has to do with me. Explain if you would, why I was awakened at such an early hour."

"I asked my brother to get in touch with you. I'm sorry to have disturbed your sleep, but I assure you, it was for good reason. The young woman in this bed was involved in a car accident, Julian. She is critically injured, and she needs surgery. However, when the operating team attempted an incision, they were thrown across the room by an invisible force."

"I see."

"We've been able to attach monitors, external ones only. One of the nurses suffered a broken arm trying to start an IV and since then I have watched over her myself, after calling the Ministry, of course. I assumed she was one of yours."

"This girl is a muggle," Smidgeon said as he took a closer look, "And a familiar one at that. I can't place her, but I'm certain I've seen her before. Perhaps the wife of one of ours."

"There was no wedding ring on her finger. In fact, she wore no jewelry at all, save for that necklace. We were unable to remove it."

The necklace gave a faint bluish glow, which surely the muggle doctor was unable to see, though the Minister could see it clearly. Smidgeon drew his wand, pointed it at the oval stone, and whispered a spell. The glow intensified, and then faded again. "This necklace is the cause of your worries, Doctor. It has been charmed for protection. Unfortunately, it could take days for our team of spell breakers to identify and counter a charm as strong as this. Tell me, how badly injured is this girl? How long will she survive without proper care?"

"You aren't suggesting leaving her here are you? You I_must/I_ take her! She'll have succumbed to her injuries by this time tomorrow!"

Julian paced the floor; deep in contemplation as the doctor looked on, awaiting a decision. "You're right. She is best left in our care, even though this goes against our policies. We will heal I_only/I_ her life-threatening injuries and remove the necklace. After that, we will return her to you. St. Mungo's has tightened their policies regarding muggles. Only those who have been cursed or otherwise harmed by magic are admitted, cured, and their memories modified. This woman was not injured by magic. However, it is clear that her life is in danger I_due/I_ to magic. That, and that alone, makes her an exception."

"I understand, Minister. My brother told me as much, which is why you were awakened at such a late hour. This facility is able to handle a common accident victim, as long as there are no otherworldly enchantments causing harm to the staff and scaring people half to death. We will only accept her after it has been removed. Do as you say and we'll take her back."

"I will send for someone to transport her at once."

* * *

Draco opened his eyes for the second time, having fallen back to sleep while watching Sara dream beside him. This time, it was she who was watching him. "Stop staring at me. It's creepy."

"I couldn't help it. You're so sweet and innocent when you're asleep. It's a whole new look for you," Sara smiled, "How do you feel?"

"Fine. No more fever. No aches, none of it."

"Excellent."

"How do I_you/I_ feel?"

"Wretched, if you must know."

"I think I like you better drunk," Draco propped his head on his elbow, "Still love me?"

Sara laughed out loud. "I will not be answering that."

Draco still had the light of amusement in his eyes, but his tone was a bit more serious. "Still want to come live with me?"

Seeing the hope in his expression, disguised as humor, Sara sighed and gave him a soft smile from her place on the pillow. "I've told you before, Draco, I'm married. What I want and what I'm allowed are hardly the same. I_Of course/I_ I want to live with you. I hate seeing you alone all the time, suffering in silence and so unhappy."

"You could make me happy."

"Could I? Harry once thought I could make him happy, too, and I recall telling you how that's worked out for him."

"He's an incredible git, Sara. It has nothing to do with you. Harry Potter landed the best wife he could have hoped for, and he can't stop thinking about I_himself/I_ long enough to see how unhappy he's made you. I always knew he was an idiot and a failure, but I was surprised by what you told me. I never would have pegged him as disloyal."

"Neither would I, and so the wound runs that much deeper."

"I would never hurt you like that."

"I know you wouldn't."

Draco put his arms around her and pulled her across the sheets onto his pillow. "Come here. Just forget about that for now. Fly to Paris with me today. I haven't felt this well in months."

"Paris?"

"We can go to the Louvre and act like the snooty rich people we were born to be and I'll take you to this excellent bistro on the Champs-Elysees. We'll rent a car and you can drive me around the countryside, stopping at obscure little vineyards. Then, I'll take you to dinner at a little place I found on the outskirts of Paris, where the waiters sing when they bring your food. I know it sounds corny, but it's actually very impressive when experienced first-hand. The tables in the garden are my favorite. I think you'll like it, too."

"It sounds wonderful. I_Too/I_ wonderful, actually."

"But you don't want to go?"

"I do. It sounds like a perfectly lovely way to spend a Sunday, but I already have plans. However, you are more than welcome to help me with my new shop in Diagon Alley. They're remodeling the interior today, so I really need to be there. Sounds pretty lame after what you described."

"I would love to see your new shop, but isn't Potter going with you?"

"He'll be busy."

"I'll come then."

"Excellent. It's heading on nine already, so I'd best be on my way. The locator will have moved to "visiting" the moment I woke up, yet my bedroom door is still locked. I'd have some explaining to do."

"Maybe it's best if he hears it, Sara. After all, you've done nothing wrong, unfortunately, and I'm willing to attest to that if he accuses you."

Sara gave him an amused glance and climbed from the bed. "Draco? Can I ask you something?"

"Certainly."

"Why didn't you come to my anniversary party? This was the third year in a row that you didn't show up. I have to say I was most disappointed. I was dying to see you."

"I can't even begin to explain how much I wanted to see you, especially this time, but over the years, it has gotten very difficult to see you with Potter. I know I should be happy for you and all that, but seeing the two of you together, celebrating your marriage… I'd be a hypocrite if I went. Besides, the idea of spending an entire day with Christina was more than I could deal with."

"I thought you loved her?"

"In a way. We packed up the day after your wedding and wandered the world for nearly a year, as you know, and I was happy I think. I felt free of old bonds, like I was moving on in life, and it was a good feeling. Christina never complained, she never asked for a thing, and we became very good friends during that time."

Sara sat on the edge of the bed, wanting to hear the story. "But then you came home and everything changed."

"Of course it did. The things I used to love about her began to wear on my nerves and by the end of our fourth year together; I could barely stand her company anymore. I used to order things I knew she didn't like, just to see how long it would take her to voice an opinion, which she never did. She agreed with I_everything/I_ I said. There was no challenge in her conversation, only subservience. She was too grateful, too nice, too… I_agreeable_._ /I_ She bored me to death, Sara. While I like those traits in my acquaintances, when it comes to a girlfriend or a wife, I want someone who can make me stop and think. Who will argue the point, who'll tell me when I'm wrong. Someone who won't I_let/I_ me be selfish. I have nothing against Christina, but I really don't care if I ever see her again. To be honest, I hope I don't."

"I see."

"But you know, I'll never be free of certain old bonds, and I hadn't moved on at all," he took her hand and smiled, "There are some things that were meant to be, and they never truly leave us. They haunt our dreams and our memories until they drive us to misery when they go unfulfilled."

Sara smiled for a long moment, touched by the depth of his sincerity.

"I'll see you at ten. Get dressed."

Draco sighed when she disappeared, wishing she'd stayed right there beside him.

* * *

Sara knocked on the door again, this time a little louder and with a hint of impatience. "HARRY!"

At last, a grumbled response from inside. "Mghmm… what?"

"Harry, it's nearly ten o'clock!"

"Alohamora."

The door flew open and Sara wandered inside. There he was, still half asleep and with his hair sticking up in messy confusion. She noticed his clothes, thrown on the floor instead of carefully lain over the bedside chair, which was entirely unlike him, and it struck a nerve. "Late night?"

"Did you really wake me up just to glare at me and tell me what time it is? Do I look like I I_care/I_ what time it is?"

"In my eyes, it doesn't look like you care about anything at all."

"I'm asleep!"

"Maybe I should slam some windows, then?"

"Go away. I'm sorry I unlocked the door."

"Get up. I have something I want to give you."

"What? Small pox?"

Sara didn't answer, just stood there waiting, so Harry put on his glasses and swung his feet over the side of the bed.

Sara didn't wait for him to stand. She spoke to him as he yawned and stretched. "I meant to surprise you with this. I was going to set everything up for you, but it looks like I'll be busy for awhile." She didn't smile as she handed him an envelope, and he didn't smile when he took it.

Harry withdrew the official parchment and let his eyes focus on the small print. "According to this, I'm the owner or a storefront in Diagon Alley!" he leapt to his feet, but she had already passed through the door and was halfway to the stairs. "Sara!"

Harry ran into the hall and leaned over the rail, calling to her as she took to the steps.

She looked up at him and her voice held little emotion. "You need something to make you happy, Harry. Open a private auror business. You could use a little excitement in your life," she looked away and continued down the stairs, "Obviously; you aren't getting any of I_that/I_ at home."

"Sara wait!" Harry ran down the steps, ignoring her last mumbled comment. He'd been so envious of her new shop that to now have his own, with so much promise, all he wanted to do was hug her and give her the world's biggest kiss. He was so excited, he couldn't wait to go look at it, but her present mood and her hurry to get as far away from him as she could was a giant boot heel, stomping the thrill into the ground.

Harry caught up to her on the walk out front, ran in front of her, forgetting the fact that he was wearing only his boxer shorts, and threw his arms around her. Sara stiffened. She did not return the embrace, but her sharp breath let him know such personal contact was not welcome. Harry let his arms, and his elated smile, fall away.

"Sara?"

"Yes?"

"What's wrong?"

Not wanting to have such an ugly conversation, Sara softened her expression. "You surprised me. I have to go. I said I'd be there at ten." She tried to walk around him, and felt his gentle hand on her shoulder.

"I just wanted to thank you."

"I'm glad you like it. I'll see you later, Harry. I don't think I'll be home for dinner."

Harry watched her disappear into the garage, drive out in her weird-looking purple car, and vanish. He stood there a moment, then walked thirty paces to the wading pool, put his feet in, and sat down on the ledge. With his head in his hands, he felt the cold mist of the fountain and ignored it. There were heavier things on his mind.

* * *

Draco was standing outside the shop when she arrived, flustered and in an unnecessary hurry. "You're late! Five minutes!" He took a couple of boxes from her hands and set them aside as she looked for the keys.

"Sorry! First Harry tried to talk to me and then Severus' owl flew into my car while I was driving through London and scared me half to death. I nearly ran right into another car! Thankfully, the enchantments Hermione put on it let me avoid any mishaps."

"What was so important?"

"I don't know exactly. He said he needs my help before a lunch appointment of the I_greatest urgency_,_ /I_ which means it could only be Sylvia, and he insisted I come to Hogwarts at once. I hope you'll come with me. Severus has been worried about you and he won't act so flustered if you're there."

"Snape? Flustered? Are you serious?"

"Well, flustered forI _him_,_ /I_ anyway. He's always snide and condescending in front of people, but I get to see the vulnerable side, too. It's not always enjoyable."

Draco laughed. "And what did Harry want?"

Both spun around, startled, at the bellowing voice from across the cul-e-sac.

"YOU!"

"She must be talking to you, Draco. Funny, she doesn't seem like your type."

The woman, who was neither fat nor thin, but had just a little extra padding, was coming toward them as her shoulder length, strawberry hair and a battered old summer robe bounced behind her on the breeze created by her angry pace. "You open a divination shop and I_I'll burn it down!" /I_

Draco smiled with recognition. "I know you! You're that crazy first year who was always hearing voices!" he looked her careworn attire up and down, "I see you're doing I_well/I_ for yourself_._"

Sara was shocked by the vicious tone behind such a malicious comment. I_"Draco!" /I_

"At least I _work_ for what I have, you evil, worthless piece of mansion trash. No one ever handed me anything, and I'm a right lot prouder of that than I_you/I_ ought to be!"

"I hear the charities are having a tag sale next week. They came around, looking for donations. Perhaps you'll find something of I_ours/I_ there, not that you could I_fit/I_ into Sara's old clothes."

"Draco! What an awful thing to say!"

Hawthorn was turning red with fury. She drew her wand, but didn't aim it.

Draco ignored both women; he was having too much fun. "Perhaps you should spend less money on _food_ and buy a new pair of shoes. I couldn't I_imagine/I_ going out in public in those, but then you've never had enough sense to be embarrassed, have you, I_Sybil? /I_ You'd think theI_ voices_ _/I_ would have filled you in by now._"_

The woman's voice was quick and furious. "Call me that again, I_Mr. Wronski Feint, /I_ and I'll curse your tongue right out of your skull, you pathetic little turncoat!"

Sara was offended. "Draco, I hear voices, too, you know! Granted, they're usually attached to a vision and I don't go around telling people about them, but you don't have to be insulting!"

"I would never insult a I_real/I_ diviner. Sybil here was the biggest joke in Slytherin house! You should hear the things she would go around telling people!"

"My name," she seethed, "Is HAWTHORN! I I_AM/I_ a real diviner, and to prove it, I'll tell your little I_secret/I_ if you don't shut your big, fat mouth and let me speak to this bloodyI _witch/I_ so I can get back to work."

Sara was shocked. "I'm sorry, do I I_know/I_ you?"

Draco was incensed. His voice was a growl and his tone pure acid. "You speak of her that way again, and I'llI _kill/I_ you."

"What are you gonna do? Insult me to death?" Hawthorn stepped in closer and narrowed her eyes at him. "Shut the hell up and get out of my way before your little blonde I_friend_ _/I_ here has to conjure you a stretcher, do you understand me, you foul, loathsome, obnoxious, wanker?"

Draco drew his wand, and at that point, Sara pushed between them and demanded Draco back away. She was surprised when he did. "Draco, Hawthorn has stated in more or less words that she is here to speak to me, so I have to admit, when someone comes storming across the way, saying they plan to burn down my shop, I would like to know what the problem is."

"I told your idiot husband yesterday! Apparently, he isn't smart enough to deliver a message!

"My idiot husband? Do you even know who you were talking to?"

"I don't care if he's the Queen of England! At least I_she_ _/I_ might be able to repeat two sentences!"

"My husband," Sara growled, "Is I_Harry Potter/I_ and if you have another negative word to say about him, I'll get out of Draco's way."

Hawthorn glanced at Draco, who smiled and raised his eyebrows, hoping she would choose to try Sara's patience. Hawthorn sneered in his general direction, and then snapped her attention back to Sara. "Look, Barbie. You see my shop over there?" she pointed across the way to the corner store, adjacent to Lisa Renee's, "What does that sign say? Or can't you read?"

Sara let a cool grin touch her expression. Her hand made the slightest movement, and Hawthorn gasped in shock and indignation as her hand-painted shop sign was struck by a single bolt of lightning, splitting it into what looked to be seven or eight pieces, a couple of which ignited, and tearing it clear off the pole from which it hung.

"I guess I I_can't_ _/I_ read because I haven't a clue what it says. It's so hard to make out from here."

Hawthorn looked like she was about to cry and/or tear Sara apart with her bare hands. She whispered through her rage. "That sign was a I_gift_."_ /I_

Without another word, Hawthorn crossed the cul-de-sac with slumped shoulders and her head raised high, collected the shards of painted wood, shot a poison glance back over her shoulder, and then disappeared into her shop.

Draco laid a hand on Sara's arm. "I'm impressed."

Sara sighed. She'd been furious with the audacity of this new neighbor, yet something in Hawthorn's demeanor made her sorry for what she'd done to the sign. Sara realized that the sign was something of personal value, a cherished item, and the guilt that any average, decent person would feel came to the surface.

Draco scoffed. "I don't know what she's doing here so early, anyway. The shops don't open until noon, yet I_she's/I_ open. Let me know if she bothers you again."

"I can fend for myself. After all, you nearly started a brawl. I handled the situation in about one minute and without any childish insults. Attacking a person's means and appearance is hardly admirable, Draco. I want you to know that I was embarrassed by the things that you said and if you plan to behave that way in the future, then we will never venture into public together again. You must have learned by the time you were five that lowering yourself to such a pathetic level solves nothing."

"I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself. She's such a haggard old bitch, it just came out."

Sara burst out laughing. "You're such a prat!"

"Really though, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I won't do it again. At least not when you're around."

She finally got all the quirks of the key right and swung the door open.

"Welcome to my new disaster area. Grab one of those boxes, would you? The contractors should be here any minute and we're late for Severus. I can only imagine what he wants?"

* * *

Having retrieved the keys from Gringott's Bank, Harry stood before the door to his new shop with a smile on his face and an ache in his heart. He had come to a decision in the wading pool, one that both relieved and saddened him. He decided to put it out of his mind and enjoy the excitement of opening this literal door of opportunity.

"So you're the lucky guy, eh, Potter?"

Harry spun around, surprised to be addressed by a strange voice and with his back turned. His hand was on the hilt of his wand until he recognized a fellow Gryffindor from his class smiling back at him and carrying The Daily Prophet. Harry was horrified to find that, after ten years, he couldn't remember the man's name and he was sure his discomfort showed on his face.

"It's Yates from Gryffindor! I've lost a bit of hair since school, but I hope you remember me. Be terribly embarrassing for both of us if you didn't."

"Of course I remember you, Yates! You were friends with Fred and George, you were infatuated with Lavender Brown, and you drove the common room crazy, prattling on with Liam Seever about the ineptitude of Minister Fudge. Didn't you have some sort of nickname?"

I_"Sssssslinky!" /I_

Harry laughed. "That's right! TKE Slinky. How could I forget!"

"Haven't seen Lavender in years. I married a muggle I met over in Leeds, believe it or not. I see Liam now and again, but we're prattling on about Smidgeon now. Did you know that he's refusing to negotiate for more Dementors to guard Azkaban? He's bloody afraid of them, so the passive bastard would rather risk a breakout than face his fears! And who will suffer? Us, of course! Every one of us! With Dumbledore gone, Diagon Alley is the first place they'll attack, you can bet on that."

"I've heard something like that. About the over-crowding and such." Harry cringed in his mind. He did I_not/I_ want to talk politics when the door behind him was begging to be opened and the rooms explored. He also didn't believe for a minute that there would ever be a mass outbreak of Azkaban prisoners and held no fault with Julian Smidgeon. Azkaban was on an island. What were they going to do? Swim? Conjure a cruise ship? They couldn't all turn into dogs and paddle across like Sirius and Voldemort was no longer around to have them retrieved like he did with Barty Crouch Jr. It was ludicrous. "Good thing I trained to be an auror, then. I'll need it when the streets are overrun by Death Eaters. Actually, I'll be opening a private auror business in this shop in the weeks to come." Harry knew this last was off topic, but hoped it would sway the conversation away from Smidgeon and Death Eaters and Azkaban.

"I have to say, Harry, I was curious to see who managed to get this place. Shops come up for sale so rarely in Diagon Alley, and they aren't often let go once acquired. A person can only hope for a good neighbor. I own the apothecary across the street." Yates shifted his paper and jacked a thumb over his shoulder. "Family business, you know. Welcome to our little section. It's a nice area, though a little too close to Knockturn Alley for I_our/I_ tastes."

"I was just noticing on my way over, but I guess I don't mind, as long as it isn't I_in/I_ Knockturn Alley. And thanks."

"Anytime! Oh, and if you need some help fixing the place up, don't be afraid to give a shout. It's in pretty rough shape. Especially the flat upstairs. The Toadbuckets lived up there for about a thousand years and they weren't the _cleanest_ people, if you know what I mean."

"My wife, Sara, got the candle store and we went in there yesterday, so I think I have a pretty good idea."

"I I_heard/I_ you married that blonde from school. You always did have all the luck! There were bets going all over Gryffindor for how long it took before Malfoy stole her away from you. Glad to see a lot of people lost their money, Harry. And I have to say, you had quite a few jealous eyes on your back seventh year. She was I_smokin._"_ /I_

Harry's good mood nearly fell right through the floor. "Yeah. I was just lucky I guess."

I_Lucky/I_ was the farthest thing from what Harry felt he was, but he gave old Slinky a false smile. "Great to see you again, Yates."

Yates again shifted his newspaper and shook Harry's hand. "See you around! Remember, if you need anything at all, aside from a massage, you know where to find me."

Harry smiled and watched Yates cross to his store, turning once to wave his paper at Harry. Harry raised a hand in return, and then set to unlocking his door.

* * *

Sara gave the contractors some instructions and returned to the house in her car with Draco. Like Harry, she also had a port key she could touch outside of London, which landed her right back in her own driveway. From there, they took the port key from the cottage to her old tower at Hogwarts. She longed to linger there, and could tell Draco did, too, but Severus had requested she come immediately and they had already wasted plenty of time.

The dungeons were a quick broom ride away and Sara landed outside Snape's door.

"Wait a moment. Let me tell him you're here, just in case."

Sara knocked, and was greeted by a mumbled "Come in." The door swung open on creaky hinges and there was Severus, clad in a baggy old robe. He stood and she noticed it was the very same robe that she predicted would pop a button not two days before, yet now it hung on him, loose and shapeless, like old drapery. His cheeks were thinner, there was no more skin hanging beneath his neck, and his face was chiseled, as though he was an Adonis, or at least a man half his age.

"Severus! My God! You look amazing! I_What/I_ have you done?"

"I just wanted to look presentable. I didn't want her to see me overweight, and now I look ridiculous! Anyone who sees me will know it's a potion! I'll be a laughingstock!"

"That's not true!"

"Getting Sylvia to agree to see me wasn't exactly easy, as you know, and now that she's asked me to meet her I can't go because I look like an idiot."

"If you're so uncomfortable with your appearance, why don't you take an anti-dote?"

"It will take all day to brew. I was so certain this was how I wanted to look that I didn't think of a counter potion. I had no idea I would feel so ridiculous and now there's nothing I can do except send her my apologies."

"You'll do nothing of the kind. All you need are some clothes that actually fit you."

"I'm not going."

"You ARE going and that's final." Sara placed a hand on his arm, knowing how upset he was, even though he appeared more angry than upset. Sara knew him well enough to know the difference. "Severus, it's not as noticeable as you think. You've been cooped up at Hogwarts all summer. No one has even seen you, so how will they notice? I noticed, only because I saw you in that robe just the other day. To anyone in Diagon Alley, it just looks like you've trimmed up a little and you won't get more than a second glance. Sylvia will think you're handsome and that's all that matters. Now let's find you some clothes."

"I don't have any that will fit and there's no time now anyway."

Draco swung into the doorway. "Then you can wear some of mine."

* * *

"Your wife sent us over. We've finished with her place. I guess she wants yours done, too."

Harry looked to the burly old wizard who carried a case of samples in one fat, red fist, and a wand in the other. "Excellent! Come in, then."

Harry spent the better part of the next hour selecting ceiling patterns, wall coverings, and floor tiles. All the while, the fat man and his two assistants wandered the rooms, aiming their wands and watching the old stuff disappear like that much dust. Harry felt ignorant as he watched the fat guy whisk away the walls without harming the frames beneath, as he and Sara were afraid might happen the day before. Then again, these guys were professionals. They knew what they were doing. They didn't even require a magical trash can. The walls disappeared the way the walls of the cave had when Harry'd carved it so long ago. Back when sharing his life with Sara was his only hope for the future.

Harry sighed over tile samples. None of this held any thrill for him, or even made any sense when he thought of her. Choosing tiles when his life was in shambles seemed frivolous and stupid. They should be doing this together, but some part of him was glad he had something all his own. Something Sara had no hand in, no involvement with.

"Hey Potter, your wife said not to let you pick that one. She said the floor should be a lighter color," one of the assistants said, "Don't look at me like that! I'm passing on a message is all! Don't shoot the bloody messenger, man!"

Harry laid the forbidden tile out with his selections. "The front room it is, then."

"It's your neck, mate."

Harry recalled the awful feeling of trying to hug his wife this morning. "Yes, and it's my choice, not hers."

Harry stood aside and watched as the fat man laid a single tile on the floor, cast a spell, and in an instant, the entire floor was finished.I _I wonder how much we're paying him for that? /I_ he thought.

It was interesting to watch the first few times, but Harry grew bored and decided to send an owl to Ron and Hermione. He made his way to the post office where he encountered a familiar face. The pretty girl smiled as she turned and let her dark brown eyes look him up and down.

"Harry Potter, right?"

"I am. You must be Mariah. I saw you go by on the float with Brock Landry the other day. Congratulations on winning the pageant."

"Thanks. It was the scholarship I was after, not the tiara, but that's certainly an added bonus."

Harry laughed. "I hope you deal with attention well. It seemed you were getting more than a fair share of it."

Mariah laughed and flashed Harry a beautiful grin that lifted his spirits without effort. "I don't mind attention."

"I don't suppose many girls would, especially with Brock Landry around."

"Brock's a friend, actually. I don't need to win a pageant to hang out with him, but in most cases, I'd say you were right on the money. I bet _all_ the girls are vying for a little attention from ultra-famous Harry Potter, though." Mariah smiled again and winked at Harry, who turned red and stammered over some unintelligible response. Mariah laid a hand on his arm. "Calm down, boy, I'm not hitting on you," she grinned again, "Not yet, anyway."

Harry visibly relaxed. "Oh… um… sorry." The fact was; Harry thought he would melt into a puddle of raw nerves if she were. Mariah was more than just a beautiful young lady, she had the most attractive I_spunkiness/I_ of anyone he'd ever met. It was rare to meet someone so full of life and with such mischievous confidence hiding behind her eyes. She had everything going for her and she knew it. And Harry adored her.

"Well, Harry, I'd make you buy me lunch if you weren't wearing that ring, but since you are, I guess I'll settle for a handshake in the post office."

"I would take you to lunch anyway, but my wife would curse me straight into next year."

"As she I_should!" /I_

Harry laughed aloud, drawing a few glances from passers-by. "It was nice to meet you, Mariah. Congratulations again."

"Nice meeting you, too, Harry. I hope to see you again sometime."

"Likewise."

She looked back over her shoulder on her way out the door and gave Harry a playful wave and one last heart-stopping smile.

Someone slapped Harry on the back as they passed behind him. "Bit young for you, isn't she?"

Harry turned to see an older man engaged in silent laughter. "We were just talking."

"Whatever you say, Potter. Watch your step coming down off that cloud. It's a helluva fall."

* * *

Snape held his breath as he stood on the walk that led into the cul-de-sac. He could see that Sylvia was already here and seated at one of the outdoor tables belonging to Mystic's Café. Thankfully, her back faced him, so even though he looked outstanding in one of Draco's casual suits and a fine summer robe, he thought he could sneak up behind her and slide into the opposite chair without her seeing much of his new physique. Sara urged him forward before she and Draco left him in favor of her shop.

Draco decided a bottle of champagne was in order, now that the place was refinished, so he headed over to Slytherin Spirits while Sara went to see how it looked.

Outside, Draco encountered a man sitting on a bench with several bottles of ale beside him in a sack. He checked his watch and shook his head at the man, who already swayed in his seat at five past noon on a Sunday. "Only a complete Imoron_/I_ would sit in the sun like that. You'd best put that hat on or you'll burn the rest of your hair off!"

"Hey buddy!" the man slurred, "Want a beer?"

Draco looked insulted that anyone would think he'd be caught dead drinking ale from a sack, outside,I _in public, /I_ and at such an hour. "I hardly think so!"

"Got a stick up your ass, eh?"

"I most certainly I_do not! /I_ How perfectly vulgar! Obviously _you_ grew up on Skid Row!"

"I grew up? Damn it!"

"I think I'll be going now, if you don't mind!"

"Ok, but if you see the little hottie who was drinking with me yesterday, send her over. I liked her. She's really nice."

"The I_what?" /I_

"That new chick who bought the candle store. She can sit by me I_anytime." /I_

Fury erupted on Draco's face and he drew his wand, aiming it straight at the sunburned head of the oblivious ignoramus before him.

I_"Expelliarmus!" /I_

Draco turned to find a pretty, black haired girl holding his wand in the doorway. Her expression turned from angry to star-struck. "Draco Malfoy! Holy Merlins! I've been reading about you in I_Witch Weekly/I_ since I was ten!"

"Then you wouldn't mind returning my wand to me."

She smiled and handed it back. "Warf means no harm. He's the nicest guy, really."

"He's lucky you're quick with a spell or he'd be in several pieces by now."

"Why? He did nothing wrong. I've been standing here the whole time."

"Talking about Sara that way! I should kill him!"

Warf was smiling and looking around the square. "I like her."

Slyth smiled, "All he did was call her pretty and nice. That's hardly a crime. Come in, have a drink with me and calm the hell down," she led him inside, "If you're going to kill every man who finds her attractive, you've got quite the job ahead of you."

"It was the I_way/I_ he said it. He was disrespectful."

"No he wasn't. You don't spend much time around normal people, do you, Draco?"

"Well, no, I guess I don't."

Slyth stood very close and looked up at him with vixen eyes. "Well, if you ever want to start," she went up on her toes and kissed him right on the lips, "I'm available."

Draco, for once, had no idea how to react, but just that fast she was around the other side of the bar and back to the business at hand.

"Hmmm… haughty… upper-class… refined… definitely I_not/I_ casual… arrogant… stick up his ass…" she spun around with a bottle in her hands, "You drink merlot, premium stock, good year."

"I'm impressed. Do you want a job?"

"If it includes flirting with you, I do."

Draco smiled and decided to change the subject as she poured him a glass. His eyes landed on a flier, tacked up on the wall. "What's a Nexus and why is it dead?"

Slyth laughed. "Dead Nexus is a band. They do mostly U2 cover songs and they're pretty good or so I hear. They're playing here Saturday night, you should come," she gave him a playful, seductive grin; "You could be my VIP. Special privileges, you know."

"And what might those be?"

"Tell you later."

"You're a devil."

"You have I_no/I_ idea."

Warf bellowed from outside. "Hey Slyth! I need more beer!"

"I'll be out in a minute! I have a customer!"

"Is it Sara?"

Draco went rigid. "That's it!" Out came his wand, but Slyth stayed his hand.

"Think twice, Draco. If you hurt him, you won't be welcome back here. Ever."

"He's lucky you're cute."

Slyth smiled and took his empty glass. "Now what were you after?"

"Champagne."

* * *

"It's good to see you."

"You look well, Severus."

"Thank you. You look very well yourself. You've been using the skin serum I made you, I see. You look ten years younger."

I_"Can it, /I_ Severus, I haven't touched the skin serum and I look ten years older because I'm run ragged and I don't get enough sleep. However, it was a very thoughtful lie, so thank you."

"What could be keeping you so busy?"

"Nothing that concerns you."

"I was trying to be polite by asking after your interests. No need for a sharp tongue, Sylvia. Let's not begin that way; we haven't seen each other in months."

"Well, if you really must know, a good part of it was trying to obtain hundreds of fog vials, which you so rudely refused to help with. As you know, they'll only sell them twenty at a time unless you're a potions master, an apothecary, an alchemist, or a medical establishment. Therefore, we were running all over Europe trying to obtain them."

"We?"

"My partners and I, not that it's any of your business."

"I'm sorry I caused you so much trouble, but had I known what they were to be used for, I may have given a different answer."

"I asked you to trust me and you wouldn't."

"I asked you to confide in me and you wouldn't. It's water under the bridge, Sylvia. There's nothing we can do to change the past. I was hoping we could start over."

"You're right, Severus. There's no sense in arguing over it now."

Snape reached across the table and took her hand. "I'm glad you came."

Sylvia's cruel smile twisted into something akin to sincerity. "So am I. I need your help, Severus."

* * *

It would be awhile before Ron and Hermione would get his letter, so Harry thought he would stop by Sara's shop to see how it all came out. It was on his way back, after all, and it wouldn't hurt to thank her for sending the contractors. As he passed the fortuneteller on the corner, Harry noticed the furious woman who'd screamed at him on the street the day before was looking out the window. He raised a hand; she was Sara's neighbor after all, though he expected her to throw a rock at his head. She didn't. She wiped her eyes with a ratty, discolored handkerchief and gave him a disheartened smile before letting the draperies fall back into place.

There was a glow from within as Harry approached Sara's shop and music spilled out through the open windows. He stopped to look in before trying the door. Candles burned inside, placed in mismatched holders all around the front room, all done in dark marble with warm, rich fabrics on the walls and an elegant, patterned golden ceiling. Sara held a glass of champagne in one hand as she danced with Draco Malfoy. The two of them were talking and laughing and her face held a smile he'd forgotten she possessed. There was a light in her eyes he hadn't seen in years and the streak was but a single thread, lost in the blonde that had reclaimed it.

She was happy. There was no way around it, and Harry's heart swelled with grief as he realized how long it had been since he'd seen her this way. Sara used to light up every time her eyes met his, but she didn't smile anymore. Sadness darkened her eyes when she looked at him now and the knowledge of what he had taken from her was a pain that had no remedy. The part of him that was dark and resentful, that was unable to trust, that had always felt inadequate and stupid and undeserving seeped through his being like poison.

Harry turned his eyes to the ground and walked away.

He found himself in front of Mystic's Café, and with no idea of what he was doing or where he was going, he went inside. He was simply in need of getting away from the ache of seeing his wife, who he still loved more than anything, looking at Draco Malfoy the way she'd once looked at him. There was a booth in a dark corner, so Harry fell into it, and let his head collapse onto his hands. His fingers slid into his hair, and Harry stared down at the table, wondering if throwing himself off the nearest bridge would ease his suffering.

Someone slid into the seat across from him. Harry didn't care who it was. He didn't want to talk and he hoped they would realize this and go the hell away.

"Looks like maybe I should buy you lunch instead."

Harry raised his troubled eyes to find the sweetest smile looking back at him.

Her voice was low and full of sympathy. "Someone's having a bad day."

"I've had worse," he tried to smile and failed.

Mariah looked at him with patience and understanding. "Honey, you're hair's sticking straight up." She rose from her seat, leaned across and smoothed it down with a gentle hand. "That's better. Now I'm going to buy us lunch, and you're going to start talking, and when you leave this booth, we'll both feel better."

Harry looked at her for a long moment. "Would you go someplace with me? There's something I want to show you."

* * *

110


	7. Chapter 7: Nox

The Girl in the Tower 2: Seasons of Discontent Ch. 7: Nox

BPART 1: SEVEN YEARS

Chapter Seven: Nox/B

IB ~

I will leave the light on.  
I'll never give up on you.  
Leave the light on for me, too.

John Mayer – _Back to You/B/I_

"We I_have/I_ to do something, Minister! She's getting worse and there's no hope as long as that charm is around her neck."

I_"I know, /I_ Charles, but I have to admit, I'm at a loss in this situation. Our spell-breakers have been working since before she arrived and they just can't figure it out! Miguel says it's very old magic, and a very old necklace, and is likely some derivative of the Dark Arts that has been lost over the years. He's done everything short of asking around Knockturn Alley for ideas. They need more time."

"She doesn't I_have/I_ more time. She's fading fast. There is lung damage that we cannot heal. Internal bleeding, head injuries. Broken bones at the very least! You told me she was familiar to you."

"Yes, but I really have no idea who she is, Charles! I've been thinking on it non-stop since I first saw her in the Manchester hospital, but I'm no closer to remembering."

"Obviously she has wizard affiliations."

"I agree."

"Have you sent anyone to examine the car she was driving?"

"I have and they've only just now reported back. It seems she went off the road in the dark and struck a tree at a high rate of speed. Silly muggle contraptions. Charles, sometimes I wish we could share magic with the world. Maybe then senseless things like this wouldn't happen."

"Admirable sentiments. However, the report the muggle doctor sent states that she was intoxicated at the time she was admitted. They were able to analyze her breath, as crazy as that sounds. They were also able to do some sort of body scan, which is surprisingly quite detailed and easy to read. They could see all the injuries, but this charm kept them from doing anything about them. We now face the same challenge and I must tell you this with all seriousness, Julien. This girl is I_going_ _to_ _die_,_ /I_ and it will be on our watch."

"What is your suggestion? I can see that you have one."

"Were there any personal effects in her car?"

"I was told that there were indeed a few. Photographs, clothing, not much else. But we have learned her name. Unfortunately, I doubt it will help us much."

"Don't be so quick to despair! If there is a clear photograph of her, along with her name, we can get a front-page article in the Daily Prophet's evening edition if we act quickly. Someone, somewhere, is bound to know who she is. We find that person; we may be able to get that necklace off before it's too late.

"I'll get my men on it right away."

* * *

"Look, in the window there."

"Beautiful couple," Mariah smiled, "They look so happy."

"That's my wife."

Mariah took a closer look. "Tell me that's her I_brother/I_ she's dancing with."

"It's I_Draco Malfoy." /I_ Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked a stone with lackluster disinterest, watching it skitter across the walk. "I assume you know who I_he/I_ is."

"Oh my," Mariah sighed, "That's some I_heavy/I_ competition." The dreamy look on her face melted into something sad and apologetic.

Harry caught her eye and tried to smile a little. I"_Heavy competition/I_ is a rather mild way of putting it. I've never been jealous when it comes to Sara, but Malfoy has always kicked the legs out from under that sort of confidence. Of course, it doesn't help that I can't stand him." Harry watched his impossibly good-looking, dangerously charming and intriguingly dangerous, arrogant, blond nemesis twirl his beautiful, radiant, smiling wife around the room amid the glow of romantic candlelight. The love he'd once felt for Sara flooded him, immense and unbearable, as thoughts of a long ago September night full of enchantment and laughter loomed in his mind like a painful ghost. Sara's seventeen-year-old violet eyes peered up at him through a halo of silver roses and Harry shut the memory out until the warmth of recollection was replaced once more by bitterness and resentment for Draco Malfoy.

"He's always had it for Sara. He'd go around in frilly knickers if he thought it would please her. He'd lob off his ownI _head_ _/I_ if she asked him to."

"But would she lob off hers? That's the question, really. Any guy would fall in love with a woman like your wife, Harry. It's how I_she/I_ feels that matters, don't you think?"

"I don't know how she feels about him," Harry whispered, "But I trust my intuition and he worries me more than he should. A great deal more, actually."

"Why would you worry? You're I_better/I_ than he is and you're crazy if you think otherwise. I'm sure your wife is of the same opinion. She I_married/I_ you, after all."

"HeI _suits/I_ her is why. They're exactly alike," Harry's shoulders slumped, I_"Exactly." /I_

Mariah indicated the scene behind the window. "Does that bother you?"

"Yes."

"Then walk in there and chase him off."

"I can't police her like that. Sara will do what she wants."

_I "Harry Potter!_ _/I_ March right in there this instant and show that boy what it means to mess with another man's wife!"

Harry didn't move, aside from fidgeting with the galleons in his pocket. "They're best friends," he explained, "She'd never forgive me if I was wrong."

"That doesn't look like I_friends/I_ to me. I might be younger than you, Harry, but I know what I see."

"And you would be correct. Come on."

"Just I_leave?_ _/I_ You're not going to do anything?"

"And what would it prove if I did? They're dancing, Mariah, not snogging."

"They're I_too close. /I_ You're upset and they should know it. I'll tell them if you won't."

"I think I've chased the joy from her life long enough." Harry hurried away with his head down and his hands curled in his pockets.

Mariah stole one last glance at the laughing, dancing couple on the other side of the glass before falling in beside Harry, who led her straight out of Diagon Alley and to the Jaguar, parked on the busy London street outside the Leaky Cauldron.

Soon, Harry led Mariah through the front door of the house he shared with Sara.

Awestruck wonder and delight lit her expression as they stepped from the atrium. "Would you I_look/I_ at this place!"

"I did most of the designs myself and had it built while Sara was away."

"It's beautiful!" Mariah looked around at all she could see, "I mean, it's so much I_more/I_ than that!"

"That's because this house was built on dreams. TheI _loveliest_ _/I_ of dreams." Harry's face grew dark and his tone quiet. "They've all faded now. This house is all that's left."

Mariah turned to face him and her heart fell to pieces as she looked in his eyes, so full of sadness and pain that she could barely understand the apathy she saw in him. "I'm listening, Harry."

Harry walked Mariah through the rooms downstairs, and as he did, he told the story of how he'd met the lonely girl in the tower, how they fell in love, and how the darkness had come between them. He told her about Draco, and Lucius, and Sara fleeing in the night. He led her through the courtyard, full of lilacs and roses in bloom and sat with her before the fountain in the center, looking up at the statue of Frodo Baggins that would forever remind him of the greatest heartbreak any man had ever known. It was there that he told the story of her absence, and the thread of hope he'd clung to all those years ago, of how he'd waited on the balcony on the anniversary of her departure, and the despair he'd felt when she did not return. He ended with the sad tale of the ring, and of painting the doors black in the moonless night.

"It was then that she returned to me. Later that night. She read the journal I'd sent, and we were married the day after the great battle with Voldemort, which took place right here in our yard. It was the happiest day of my life, when I married Sara. Only now, after seven years, do I see how foolish we were, clinging to the past and to the perfect memory of what we'd known before, but little did we know that we were strangers to each other, no longer the hopeful innocents we'd once been, and that we were no longer meant to be. Everyone tried to tell me. Even I_Sara/I_ tried to tell me, but she said that she loved me, and that she'd made a promise she intended to keep. She swore to never leave me and I have a feeling it's the only reason she's still here. Sara has kept I_all_ _/I_ of her promises. I can trust in her word, and in her sincerity, but I can't trust the darkness that still harbors inside of her. I want to, but there is a part of me that can't forget, and above all, can't forgive."

"What are you going to do?"

Harry said nothing as his eyes lingered on the stone image of Frodo Baggins, remembering how he'd once drawn strength from everything it stood for.

"I can't give you advice, Harry. Only _you_ can decide what you should do in a situation like this. It's between you and Sara. You need to I_talk/I_ to her, and after what I saw through the window, I'd suggest you do it soon."

Harry sighed. "I know."

"I wish I could help. I understand how alone you must feel."

"The greatest help you could give me was to listen, so thank you."

Mariah looked at him for a long moment, and then hugged him and kissed his cheek.

"Come on. I'll take you back now. There are just a few things I want to bring back to the shop, if you'll give me a minute."

* * *

As the sun made its way across the western sky, Sara and Draco made their way back to the shop with a box full of shrunken, antique furniture that had been in storage in Malfoy Manor for many decades. Draco had thought of it when she mentioned having to buy furnishings, he knew there would be at least a few items that would catch her fancy and he was right. Sara had fallen in love with practically I_everything/I_ crammed into three unused rooms at the back of the house and had a hard time choosing the few pieces her small shop could hold.

"Tell you what, Draco, I'll enlarge this stuff. Why don't you run over to the café and get us a couple of sandwiches and some of that chai latte Warf was talking about. It's about dinnertime, isn't it?"

"It must be," he checked his watch, "Sara! Can you believe it's nearly six o'clock!?"

"You're kidding! What have we been doing all this time?"

"Absolutely nothing!" Draco laughed, "I'll be back in a few minutes. If you need help with something, just leave it until then."

Sara smiled as he left and began unloading what looked to be dollhouse furniture from the box she held and placed the tiny pieces around the front room after returning a few Moroccan rugs to their former size. An exquisite velvet sofa from a long forgotten era went next to the front door, where her customers could sit in the event that they had to wait, along with two brass tables with fine marble surfaces and an ornate candle stand in the shape of a wicked tree that Sara simply couldn't pass up. She used a quick cleaning charm on some old velvet draperies and hung them from the windows, and then hung more across the room as a divider. These she tied back and hung hand-made lace panels behind them so she could still see the front area from the parlor. Back to the waiting area she went, with a shelving unit that was hand-carved from a single piece of mahogany, where she would place divination items for sale. At last, she enlarged all of these things and stood back to admire the beauty of them and the warmth the front area now held. She had certainly achieved the desired effect and she decided she couldn't be happier with the way it looked. A few plants, mirrors, and a little art on the walls was all it needed to be complete.

* * *

Mystic gave him a demure smile of recognition and Draco smiled back. I_Here we go again; /I_ he thought and placed his order as he mentally flirted with the attractive young woman who owned the café. She was Spanish, he thought, or maybe South American and he like the exotic look of her olive skin. There was something very pretty about her, though he couldn't put his finger on it, and her dark hair held streaks of gold. She still hadn't said anything, just sent his order to the back and kept staring at him with that shy little wisp of a smile, so Draco decided to entertain himself.

"Even better looking in person, aren't I?"

"If you think it's attractive to be conceited, then yes." As soon as she said it, he could see her bite her tongue and wonder why she did. He knew the feeling well.

"Well, you keep looking at me as though we know each other, so I can only assume that you're an avid subscriber to that silly magazine that girls everywhere seem to read."

"If you mean I_Witch Weekly,_ _/I_ then I have to admit, guilty as charged," Mystic giggled and wondered why she was acting so girlish, "Back in school, my friend Slyth and I used to argue over which one of us was going to marry you."

"Yes, I believe I met your friend earlier today. The girl over in the pub, right?"

"That would be her."

"So who won the argument? Since I'm still single, I have to wonder."

Mystic grinned. "Who do youI _hope/I_ won?"

"I haven't made up my mind yet. Come here."

Mystic's heart started racing. Her steps were slow and uncertain as she made her way to Draco's side, wondering what he could possibly want with her.

Draco stood and kissed her.

He smiled as he sat back down and although Mystic grinned, she also blushed scarlet and spilled the chai she held on his trousers.

"I'm so sorry!" she said and grabbed a dishtowel off the counter. She tried her best to clean the stain, but Draco smiled and looked to where she knelt on the floor.

"Keep I_that/I_ up and I hope you plan to stay down there awhile."

Mystic turned even redder, became flustered, and burst out laughing. Draco grinned, pointed his wand at the stain, and it disappeared with a few whispered words. He offered his hand and helped her up. "My order is ready."

Mystic was still smiling when she returned with his sandwiches. "Strange dayI _this/I_ is. Two of Witch Weekly's favorite men just happened to wander into my café within hours of each other. Tell me, did you and Harry Potter send each other owls this morning?"

"Potter was here? When?"

"Around lunchtime. He never even ordered anything, just dropped into that booth over there and looked like he'd just lost his best friend. That girl who won the beauty pageant went over and talked to him. I just left them alone. When I came back from the kitchen they were gone."

Draco filed this information away for later. "I see. Well that's just like Potter, always moping around, crying I_oh woe is me_._ /I_ I swear I've never met a bigger whiner in my life."

"I met his wife last night, Sara. We had a few drinks together at the pub. She didn't have much to say about him."

"Sara's a close personal friend of mine," Draco bragged, "I've been helping with her shop today."

"And Harry isn't a friend? Witch Weekly published photos of the two of you together a few times. I guess I thought--"

"He's a personal wet blanket, that's what he is. Always up for spoiling a good time. You can always count on Potter in the event you want to be bored half to death, but as far as hopeless gits go, he's tolerable at times."

Mystic smiled and said nothing more. She handed Draco his order, wrapped in paper.

"As for who I hope won your argument," Draco grinned, "I still haven't made up my mind."

"I wouldn't mind helping you out with your decision. Stop in again! It was nice to meet you Draco."

"The pleasure was mine." Draco was in such a good mood this day that he did something very uncharacteristic. He took Mystic's hand and kissed it, and winked as he went out the door.

He'd barely reached Sara's shop when he saw Mystic running from the café, straight over to Slytherin Spirits. He laughed to himself and realized how much he missed having a life outside the cold and unforgiving walls of Malfoy Manor.

* * *

"Sara! It looks fantastic!"

By now, Sara had arranged and enlarged all the furniture in the parlor where she would do her readings, which looked similar to the front area, except there was a low table, big enough for the tarot, with an upholstered chair on either side at the center of the room, and on it sat the Orb of Arassel. Candles glowed in antique holders all around the rooms, and she had even affixed the candle chandelier on the ceiling. All I_he'd/I_ managed to do in that time was flirt with a cute girl and get a couple of sandwiches.

Sara called from the back of the shop, so Draco found her in the kitchenette, where she had set up the small dining table they'd brought from his house. He laid their sandwiches and drinks on it and took the chair across from her. "So what are you doing tonight? Will you visit me in your nightgown again?"

"I don't know. Now that you're feeling better, maybe I should stay home before Harry jumps to the wrong conclusion."

"To hell with Harry. Throw the cheating bastard out, that's my suggestion."

"Stop, Draco. I'll deal with him in my own way as I always have. You're welcome to come back to the shop tomorrow if you'd like."

"I would like that."

"Good. So would I."

* * *

"HARRY!"

Harry stopped short as Hermione emerged from the doorway of his shop, arms crossed and glaring.

"You send us an owl, inviting us to come see your new shop and you don't even have the courtesy toI _be here?_"_ /I_

Ron came to stand beside her. "Yeah Harry! Where the bloody hell have you been? We've been waiting nearly an hour and I was starting to get a little hungry, to be honest!"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be gone so long. This is Mariah."

Ron's face changed expression. "Hello."

"Nice to meet you." Mariah smiled, but her attention was on Hermione, whose hand she hurried over to shake. "Hermione Granger! I've wanted to meet you for so long! I've heard all about you, of course!"

Ron screwed up his face. "You've heard all aboutI _Hermione?" /I_

Hermione showed him an indignant air. "What's the matter, Ronald? Does it bother you that someone actually knows who I am?"

Mariah still hadn't let go of Hermione's hand. "I was Head Girl, too! Professor McGonagall told me that you were the last person before me to get all O's every semester. She had only the highest praise for you, so you can imagine how hard I worked to rise to the standards you set! I think my proudest moment was when she said that I reminded her of you."

Harry and Ron groaned in unison as Hermione and Mariah fell into animated conversation.

Harry dug the key out of his pocket. "Come on, Ron."

"Yeah, before they start talking about Ancient Runes and Arithmancy."

The two of them passed through the door with the girls behind them, who paid little attention to anything except each other.

Ron looked around. "I hate to tell you this, mate, but there's nothing here! There isn't even anyplace to sit!"

Harry led them through the back and up the narrow stair that led to the flat above, where he spilled the contents of an over-stuffed backpack onto the floor. "Places to sit, coming up."

"Really, Ron! Did you actually think Harry would leave us with no place to sit?" Hermione looked at the pile of miniaturized furniture and luggage. "Harry? Isn't most of that stuff from your house? Sara's going to have a fit when she sees that you emptied an entire guest room!"

"And isn't that the couch from the atrium?"

"And the rugs from the solarium!"

"Harry! You took the patio set?"

Harry grew frustrated. "It's my stuff, too! Sara hasn't gone in that guest room since it was finished, she can always buy some new rugs, and this is the patio set from I_my side_ _/I_ of the yard! She isn't going to miss any of this stuff, and even if she does, it'll just give her another reason to I_shop." /I_

All present caught the animosity in his tone and fell into awkward silence. Finally, Ron offered a few apologetic words. "Sorry Harry. You've got every right to take your own things. Besides, you've got about I_ten/I_ of those couches."

"Eight, actually, and no one ever sits in them. I don't see the point in buying anything new when we've got all this extra at home. Now let's find a good spot for this couch, Hermione. You should sit down. I'm sorry you had to stand for so long."

Hermione smiled and gave his arm an affectionate pat. "It's ok, Harry. We came right away is all. We've been trying to contact you since yesterday morning!"

"Yeah," Ron added as he followed Harry and the tiny couch into the main room, "Why didn't you answer us?"

Harry's eyes widened with remembrance. "Oh no! The letters! The doorbell was ringing and it was Nikolae, so I just stuck them in my pocket." His mind focused on the other letter he'd received. The one from Christina. He would need to cut this meeting as short as possible. Harry couldn't imagine what Chris must think after getting no reply.

Hermione settled on the couch, returned to its full size. "Mariah? Would you mind going for some drinks while the boys set everything up?" she laid a hand over her distended stomach, "I'd go myself, but Ron will have a fit if I'm running up and down the stairs."

Mariah said she'd be happy to go, so Harry handed her a few galleons and whispered something in her ear. As soon as she'd descended the stairs, Hermione snapped her attention to Harry. "How long have the two of you known each other?"

"We just met, actually, a few hours ago at the post office."

Ron brightened. "I like her."

Hermione shot him a warning glance and the grin dropped from his face. She turned back to Harry. "Do you think I_Sara_ _/I_ would approve? She's I_not/I_ the sort of friend a married man should have, after all. She's rather pretty, and entirely too young!"

Harry seethed with anger. "I I_don't care/I_ what Sara thinks! She's too busy dancing with I_Malfoy/I_ to care what I do!"

Ron and Hermione shared a worried glance. "Well, it's actually Malfoy we wanted to talk to you about."

Hermione set her eyes on Harry. "What do you know about fog vials?"

* * *

"Why'd you put all this furniture in here? We can't dance anymore, there's no room and I'm quite sure I'd trip and fall on top of you."

Draco grinned and Sara laughed. "And then I'd be dead."

"At least you'd die happy."

Sara didn't answer, just took another sip of champagne.

A long moment passed as Draco reclined in his chair and watched her watching him, wondering if she really knew how special she was in his eyes. How happy it made him just to be near her, to hear her voice, to make her smile.

"Thinking about it, aren't you?"

Sara nearly choked, and turned bright red because she really I_had_ _/I_ been thinking about whether or not having Draco fall on top of her would make her happy. Thankfully, he'd caught her at it long before she'd reached a conclusion. "No I wasn't."

"WellI _I_ _/I_ was," he admitted with a grin, "I decided it's a good way for I_any/I_ female to die. Most pleasurable, I assure you. Lay down, I'll give you a demonstration."

Sara finished her champagne, set the empty glass beside the empty bottles, and smiled as she lay back on the couch and lifted her feet onto the cushions. "Well?"

Her smile widened as Draco made no move to leave his chair and turned quite pale. He pushed his hair back with one visibly shaking hand, one of his oldest nervous habits, swallowed hard and tried to say something.

Sara grinned and sat back up. "You're right. That's I_exactlyI_ how I want to die. Lying down. It'sI _perfect." /I_

Draco grinned in return. "Lay down again."

Sara laughed and it carried through the rooms as she rose to gather their things. "Not a chance, Malfoy. Being rejected once was enough for me."

_I"Rejected?! /I_ You're fully mad!"

"So I've been told."

"I'm serious!"

"So am I, unfortunately. I really I_am/I_ mad, I think."

"I'm talking about you saying I rejected you! That's nonsense! Give a guy more than five seconds to get over the shock of his life!"

Sara patted his head as she passed his chair with the empty bottles, on her way to the kitchen. Her voice again trailed away through the rooms. "No, it would only be a shock if I just walked over, threw you up against the wall, and gave you a snog you'd never forget. I think I_that/I_ might qualify." Sara emerged through the kitchen door and ran smack into Draco.

He gripped her arms with both hands. "Like this?"

Sara struck the wall, Draco crashed hard against her and the room dissolved in a kiss she'd been waiting a I_lifetime/I_ to experience for the second time. Her arms went around him, pulling him closer, her hands tangled in his clothes and his hair and all the candles went out, painting the room with the ink-and-silver shadow of night.

It had been so long since he'd felt this way, so many lonely years since the night of the Yule Ball, that it was new all over again. Yet the power of what he felt in this moment had only grown since then. Blossomed into something else, something more integral, focused, more necessary. He wondered if Sara felt the same electric fulfillment that never ceased to want for something more, the same for-keeps desire, the same passionate awakening? It was hard to say as her hands pressed against him and her heart thumped hard against his chest, where his own heart raced with hers in perfect rhythm.

Draco knew that, eventually, Sara's senses would return and her married-to-Idiotboy conscious would finally jump up in protest. It took I_much_ _/I_ longer than he thought it would, but, little by little, the madness behind her kiss fell away. Her arms loosened around him, but Draco wouldn't wait to be pushed away. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of being the righteous one. Not anymore. Draco had decided, right there in his chair as she gathered things, that he was all done tiptoeing around and waiting for Sara to finally realize how much she meant to him. If he was ever going to get what he wanted, he would have to become ruthless in his pursuit. Her actions told him everything she could not. She wanted him, he knew that she did, but Sara simply couldn't make that kind of decision. Not in her position. Draco could see it when she looked at him, the need she felt, for him to take that control out of her hands.

He showed her the sweet-yet-devilish smile only he could manage and stepped back, letting his arms fall to his sides. "You're right. If you did that I_exact same thing/I_ to me, I'd be shocked. Good call."

Sara said nothing. She still leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath and wondering what just happened.

"Actually, I_you/I_ look rather shocked right now, so I guess it works on anybody. Good thing to know, I guess. Might come in handy."

"You shouldn't have kissed me."

"Shut up or I'll do it again."

Sara laughed, despite the many thoughts that were currently stampeding through her head. "I just… I don't know. You shouldn't have."

"Hey." Draco lifted her chin and gave her his most caring smile. "That's one snog you'll never forget. If you don't want it, feel free to give it right back to me."

Sara put her arms around his waist and he drew her into a close embrace. "If it made you happy, even for a few moments, then you didn't do anything wrong."

Sara sighed and pressed her head against his shoulder. "It I_did_ _/I_ make me happy and it wasI _very/I_ wrong. That's why you shouldn't have done it."

"Say that one more time and you'll be sorry." Draco released her when she lifted her head, before she had the chance to back away. "Now stop standing around. I can't be waiting kept all night, you know. I've got better things to do."

"What!?"

"I haven't stared at my bedroom wall since yesterday. I'd better go make sure it hasn't moved." Draco smiled again and led her back to the front rooms. "Come on," he said, "Let's get you home."

* * *

The house was quiet as Harry entered and the silence was a welcome sound. He wasn't ready to face her yet and there were still a few things he wanted to do before he talked to Sara. Harry climbed the stairs with a heavy heart and entered the room he both hated and loved. The room was a private haven where he could be alone with his thoughts, but it was also the most obvious symbol of his exile and everything that was wrong with his rapidly failing marriage. After all, this wasn't his bed, or even his room. It was a guest room, simply the one he'd chosen when his wife had closed the door to him.

His eyes fell on the portrait above the bed, the one that would forever remind him of Christina, and it served as a reminder of the reasons he he'd come in here. He lifted last night's filthy, dust-covered shorts from the floor where he'd thrown them before collapsing, pulling the forgotten letters from the pocket in which they waited.

The one from Ron and Hermione was cast aside as he already knew why they had sent it, but he read Christina's letter twice. It was a mess of half-formed, looping handwriting that was hard to decipher, but the message and the sentiment were clear. Malfoy had done something rotten again, Chris knew where he was, and there was a secret she needed to share with him. Something she wouldn't put on paper, and Harry thought what she would tell him had something to do with Sara. I_Malfoy and Sara. /I_ Harry was glad he'd already made up his mind about Draco because he couldn't take another blow. Not today.

A quick glance at his father's watch told Harry he still had enough time to visit the house on the hill, as long as he didn't linger. He had to talk to Sara and he wouldn't allow himself to put it off another day. Mariah had been right about that. Actually, Mariah had been right about I_everything. /I_

Headlights bounced across the face of Draco's impressive second home as Harry pulled into the drive. With a sigh of resignation, he turned off the engine, walked to the entrance, and rang the bell. The house, he noticed as he waited, was dark inside the windows. Nothing stirred and no sounds issued from within.

Harry knocked, waited, and then knocked again, louder and with impatience.

I_Nothing. /I_

Being that he had warded this house himself years before as a favor to Draco, Harry drew his wand and let himself in. As he stepped into the blackness, a sinister voice chuckled through the lobby and echoed in the empty rooms.

I_"Lumos!" /I_

As light filtered through the shadows from the tip of his wand, the chuckle turned into a loud, amused laugh. "Did I scare you, Potter? I certainly hope so."

"I don't scare that easily, Lucius. Besides, I recognized your voice."

"Yes, it is rather distinguishable, isn't it?"

"Annoying is more like it," Harry mumbled, "Where is Christina? She sent me a letter."

"I assumed she was with you, Potter. I_Close/I_ as the two of you have become."

"We aren't I_close, /I_ Mr. Malfoy. At least not in the manner in which you imply. We're I_friends_."_ /I_

"Funny. That's I_exactly/I_ what Sara claims is her relationship with Draco," Lucius gave Harry his most contemptuous smirk, "But then I think we both know otherwise."

"What have you told Christina? Obviously, you're the portrait she referred to when she wrote to me. What sort of I_nonsense/I_ have you filled her head with?"

Lucius' tone grew quiet, laced with the venom of his own secret amusement. "Oh come now, Mr. Potter. You know me better than that. I I_always/I_ mean what I say."

Harry felt impatience seeping in to mingle with his mounting irritation. "Where have you sent her?"

"I sent her nowhere, of course. I didn't intend for her to run out the door with luggage in tow. I find it rather inconvenient, actually. She did leave a note. Behind you, in the foyer. Unfortunately, I've been placed too far away to make out what it says. I do hope you'll fill me in."

Harry muttered again, finished with Lucius, now that his eyes found the parchment on a small side table near the entrance. He lifted it and adjusted his glasses. It took only a moment to read and Harry placed it back on the table with care.

"Come here, Potter. There is something you need to hear."

"I don't want to hear your lies."

Lucius' signature purr returned to his voice as Harry turned to face him. "Suit yourself. After all, your I_wife/I_ has no problem enjoying that very attitude."

"You know nothing of Sara. You haven't seen her in ages."

"You always were a I_stupid/I_ young man, Potter, stumbling your way through false triumph after false triumph by means of wise old fools, clever friends and dumb luck. Now it appears your lack of intelligence has invaded your personal life as well. Pity."

"I don't care what Draco has told you. Whatever it is, it isn't true. Sara saw him today for the first time in months."

Lucius laughed aloud. "You really I_are/I_ a fool, aren't you?" Lucius rolled his eyes as though he was dealing with an ignorant child. "Where do you think Sara goes when she leaves the house at night? To the market?"

"She doesn't leave!"

"Oh really? Are you sure? She's been within your site every night this week, has she?"

Harry said nothing, but ideas were starting to seep into his mind against his will. Listening to Lucius' poisonous lies was poor judgment, but Harry had found a hint of truth to what he'd heard and now the part of him that jumped to conclusions had grasped that truth and was running away with it.

"Tell me Potter, does Sara not have a port key to Malfoy Manor? I happen to know that she does, as I gave it to her with my own hand. Did it never occur to you that she still uses it? She's even slept there more than once, at least that I'm aware of. I'm not always there, you see."

In Harry's mind, he saw a bedroom door, locked against him, and replies of only silence. His heart started to hammer in his chest.

"I have to admit, when an attractive young woman arrives at the home of an attractive young man at such a late hour, night after night, in secret, and wearing only her rather I_incendiary/I_ bedclothes, I assume to know what she's there for."

Harry looked at the portrait for a long, intense moment. "I really don't care."

Lucius watched him leave, puzzled and without a word of protest.

I_"Nox,_" _/I_ Harry yanked the door open, hurried through it, and slammed it behind him.

* * *

Draco sat up in bed, holding the evening edition of The Daily Prophet. He had yet to open it past the front page. What he saw there, in bold headlines, left his mouth agape and sent the numb chill of shock running through his veins like ice water. It was a long moment before he climbed from the bed, shed his pajamas, redressed, and made his way out.

St. Mungo's was a bad memory, but he entered anyway, with his "visitor" badge clipped to his shirt and his heart empty of emotion. The medi-wizard who greeted him held a solemn expression for Draco's benefit, but his eyes were excited to see the missing link they'd so hoped for walking toward him.

"She's asleep, Mr. Malfoy, but you are welcome to enter."

Draco said nothing and did not acknowledge the man. He walked through the door and stood at the foot of the bed. For a long moment, a great ache swelled in his chest as he looked at her. His eyes absorbed every cut, every deep, bluish-purple bruise, until they lingered upon the charm around her neck. He remembered the day he gave it to her, on holiday that first year in Haiti. It was a vile, loathsome place that he dared not visit again in his lifetime, as the Dark wizards in Haiti were frightening creatures never to be tested or crossed. He and Christina had spent only one night and left on a ship the next morning, but a long evening out and about had afforded him the necklace, and many new enemies.

With the greatest care, he removed the charm and bent to kiss her check. A warm, bittersweet smile touched his lips as tears stood in his eyes, an expression Draco had never before been capable of, a secret emotion he would show to only one other person in his life to come.

When he straightened, a heavy, compassionate hand fell on his shoulder. Draco turned around. The eyes he found were lower than his were, and attached to a rather large, bald head. It was the Head Medi-wizard, he remembered, the one who took care of him after the battle with Voldemort.

"Mr. Malfoy. We have to stop meeting this way, under dreadful circumstances. It's unfortunate that we couldn't have owled you as soon as she came in. You must have been beside yourself with worry."

"I haven't seen her since last year. I had no cause to worry."

"Oh… I just assumed…"

He was interrupted by Juilen Smidgeon, who breezed into the room, looking tired and over-extended. I_"Malfoy!_ _/I_ Why couldn't I recall before now? I_Of course! /I_ I met this young lady at the Ministry's Christmas ball just a few years back. We spoke of moving your father's portrait from the lobby to the second floor corridor, oh I remember it so clearly now!"

"What are you prattling on about?"

"Forgive me; it's been a long and trying day. This girl was so familiar to me, yet I could not remember with whom I had seen her. It's a trifle frustrating when one can't summon his own knowledge."

The medi-team bustled about the room now, moving Christina onto a stretcher and disconnecting magical devices from her arms and head and chest.

Draco saw they were about to levitate her away and he came to life. "Wait! Don't take her anywhere."

"Mr. Malfoy, this girl needs to go straight to a Healing Room faster than I can explain. We must take her at once."

Draco turned back to Smidgeon. "Erase her memories."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Take the wizarding world from her mind, Minister. She doesn't belong among us."

"I'm not certain if—"

"I'll give her my house. A sizable bank account. Anything she needs. Just make her forget all the things she never should have known. Let her forget I_me." /I_

"Agreed. She does not belong among us."

Draco walked to the door and hurried away, with the necklace clutched in his fist.

* * *

"I've been expecting you."

Harry dropped his keys on the coffee table and fell into the chair across from the vampire, too exhausted to appreciate the warmth of the fire. Shadows danced on the ceiling, high, vaulted gold that tossed the flickers of amber light around the darkened room, so that the many shelves of books stood like ghosts in a sea of black. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."

"It's no bother, though I have wanted to talk with you since my arrival. Circumstance has intervened as it always does. I've been worried about you, Harry, and your thoughts are especially dark tonight. "

"I'm fine. I appreciate your concern, but things should get better now."

"Is that what you think?" Nikolae uncrossed his legs and sat up straight, pulling the long, ornate pipe, from which he smoked, aside and turned his eyes to Harry. "There is one irrefutable truth I've learned in the short time I've been here, and it's that I_no one/I_ is fine. Not you, not Sara, not even Draco Malfoy. These three lives are intertwined it seems, bound together in triumph and peril, and especially in misery, Harry. Your lives are I_ka-tet/I_ with misery."

"It never really goes away, does it? Unfortunately, neither does he."

Nikolae said nothing, just held the pipe, which reminded Harry of Sherlock Holmes, and stared into the fire.

"Can I get you anything?"

Nikolae ignored him. "You know that I can see your memories?"

"Yes."

"The night you and Sara met, she read your palm, did she not?"

"It was a bit awkward, really."

"What did she tell you?"

"A bunch of random stuff. Odds and ends about my childhood and finding out about magic, and she said I would lose something a couple of times."

"Tell me more about that part. The prediction."

"She said I would lose what I cherish most on two occasions, seven years apart, but that my love for it would lead me back to it."

"What else?"

"That the second time would be mostly my fault."

"Think about that in the days to come."

Harry fell silent for a moment, realizing that Nikolae knew what he planned to do. "There's more, though, and it has bothered me ever since that day. She said I would lose something I never knew I loved."

Nikolae sighed. "That you will, Harry. That you will."

* * *

Sara shut the bedroom door with an elated smile and a heavy sigh. She was exhausted, having slept so little the night before, and especially after a long, busy day. She was thrilled with the amount of progress she and Draco had made on the shop and thought it might be finished as early as tomorrow, with his help. She could be open by next week!

It occurred to her to simply fall into bed fully dressed, as the effort to change seemed too much to ask. She hesitated in the middle of the room for a long moment until deciding to get it over with, and thought as she undressed. Sara wondered how Harry had managed with the tool store? Surely, it was in bad shape, at least as bad as hers had been, but the tiles and wall coverings must have transformed it into something livable. Perhaps tomorrow she would take a walk over and see how it was coming along.

Draco's surprise kiss also weighed heavy on her mind. It had been ten long years since something like that had happened, and it was every bit as electric as the first time, but this had been different. True, she hadn't made a decision to kiss him. He'd denied her the option and Sara wasn't sure how she felt about him just taking what he wanted. Not when she was married to Harry. Everything had changed since she was innocent and seventeen, all the old enchantments had left her, but the guilt still felt the same.

The whispery fabric floated down around her and Sara's eyes stopped dead on a single object. It was odd that she hadn't noticed right away. She usually did when something was out of place. Her heart raced when she saw the lid of her jewelry chest stood open, and the port key lay out atop the dresser. Sara's breath caught in her throat as she noticed that the port key rested on a letter, her name scrawled across the front in Harry's slanted script.

With an unsteady hand, Sara put the port key back in the chest and unfolded the thick parchment.

_I_ Sara,

Things haven't been good between us for a long time now and every time I try to make it better, I only make things worse. I'm so tired of all of this. You're miserable, so am I, and so I have moved into the flat above the shop you gave me. Being together has become too trying, we only get along for moments at a time, and I don't want to end up hating you. I don't want you to hate me, either.

I know this is probably a surprise, but it shouldn't be. After all, I suspect that the only reason you're still here is because of the promise you made. I swore never to leave you either, but then I remembered something Draco told me once, in your defense strangely enough. He said, "Sometimes, leaving is the only thing that makes sense."

I break my promise today, Sara. I'm sorry.

I love you,

Harry_/I_

Sara climbed into bed and lay there in the moonlight, with no idea how to feel. Her eyes landed on the jewelry chest and her mind longed to touch the key, but her heart wouldn't hear of it. Sara wiped her tears and realized that the greatest light in her life had abandoned her. Walked out with only a letter after seven years of marriage.I _A letter._ _/I_ He couldn't even bear to tell her to her face! Didn't she deserve as much? To see the sincerity in his eyes? To hear the apology in his voice? It was cowardly, despicable. I_How/I_ could it have come to this?

126


	8. Chapter 8: The Loyal Betrayers

The Girl in the Tower 2: Seasons of Discontent Ch. 8: Untitled

PART 2: BE HERE NOW

i _Holding back the years_

_  
Chance for me to escape from all I've known_

_Holding back the tears_

_Cause nothing here has grown_

~Simply Red/I

"Kreacher! Come to your master!"

The sniveling wretch Harry called a house elf snapped into existence at his master's feet, snarling at a pair of beat-up old trainers and mumbling his displeasure at having been summoned.

Harry sat down on the couch, which had graced the front gallery of his house by the sea as early as this morning, yet he still had to look down to meet Kreacher's eyes. "This will be your new home. We've moved as of now."

Kreacher spoke through his loathing. "Yes master."

"Where have you been? I inquired about you as I was leaving the house, and was told by the other elves that you were taken away by my wife several days ago, and had not returned. Where did she take you? I demand to know at once."

"She took me where I belong. To the master Ii _should/I_ have had!"

"Tell me his name!"

"Malfoy."

"You will tell me everything you saw. i_Everything!/I_ I want to know what he's been doing each of those days. Who has come and gone. What they talked about. Oh, and I want to know if he's brewing any potions."

Kreacher cringed as the truth came out of him. "The only visitor was your wife. She took care of Malfoy until he was well."

"When did she come? During the day?"

"Sometimes, to bring him food, but she mostly came at night."

"Did she sleep there?"

"Yes."

Something painful and angry twisted in Harry's chest as the reality of his situation sunk in. His distance and misery had pushed her into the arms of his most loathed adversary. It was bad enough coming from Lucius, who may or may not have been lying, but Kreacher wasn't, and it was almost too much to handle. "What did they do? What did they discuss?"

"I had work to do. I didn't sit around and stare at them all night."

Harry slammed his fist down on the low table before the couch, producing a satisfying _BANG!_ "Tell me all that you know!"

"I heard them talking about muggle soda pop a few times in the kitchens. Something called ginger ale."

"Yes yes, something more profound! I don't care about ginger ale! Did they talk of their relationship?"

"All I heard was talk of a trip to Paris, through the door this morning."

"What did Sara say?"

"She said she would love to go, but that she had to work on her shop."

Harry's eyes grew dark. "And what about a potion? Has he been brewing anything?"

"There are seven cauldrons brewing in the lab at all times. I was in charge of stirring them this afternoon."

"What is it?"

"I was not told."

"What color was the brew?"

"Brownish yellow."

"What about the fog vials? What is he using them for?"

"He's putting the potion in them."

"How many are there?"

"Several dozen."

Harry considered this for a long moment. "Go make the bed, Kreacher. I need to send a letter."

* * *

The cool breeze of late August drifted over the veranda atop the cliff, stirring Sara's hair and brushing cold across her pale skin. She stood in the same place Harry had once stood, contemplating the same rocks, battered by the same surf that had once embraced his sorrow as she lay dying by Draco's hand. Tonight, it was her turn to long for such release and to discover she was incapable.

The night wrapped its dark wings around her spirit the way it once had, so long ago, when she'd stood on the edge of a balcony in some unremembered city. Sara pulled her cloak tighter as the chill of remembrance touched the warm places that remained in her heart, haunting her, relieving her of all hope. Sara wanted to despair of her misfortune, to collapse in a heap and sob to the heavens, bellowing words of anger, crying over what she had lost and the injustice of it all. She found only quiet contentment in her soul, saturated in apathy, so familiar, and bittersweet.

Sara sighed, profound and heavy, letting her arms fall to her sides. Her cloak lifted on the wind as the cold embraced her once more. She no longer cared. It felt _right_ to be cold. Her eyes rose to linger on the overcast sky, reflected, broken, in the rippling water in the distance. Sara began to think beyond her sadness.

"I'm surprised to find you here, Nikita."

Sara turned toward his warm, caring voice, her eyes dry, but defeated. "Where is there to go when one's life is in ruins?"

Nikolae crossed the veranda and came to stand beside her at its edge, his feet making no sound on the marble floor. "In search of solace and a comforting arm, I supposed."

Guilt crossed her expression. "He knows I've been visiting Draco. Obviously, it's no secret. You know about it and you didn't get it from my mind. I would know it if you did."

"Harry's discontent has been a long time festering. You must understand that his problems are with himself, not with you. He doesn't understand this, and so he needed someone to blame. In time, he will come to realize his mistakes, Nikita. Do not despair so." He touched an icy hand to her face, and then withdrew it when she shivered. "As for Draco, I paid him a visit last night and found he was not alone."

"I needed a friend."

His expression turned compassionate and the slight, consoling smile faded. "I know."

Sara turned her eyes back to the tumbling wake, glittering with blackish light. "I've ruined the thing I loved most in my life, Nikolae. To love me is to be cursed."

Nikolae brushed away her tears and tried to smile. "You have done nothing wrong. Your close relationship with Draco was becoming inappropriate, but as I said, the problems began long ago. Harry is someone I respect the way I respect few other mortals, but I have to say, this situation seems to be of his own making. Just as the darkness was once inside you, it is now inside him."

"But there is a difference between my darkness and his."

"And that is what?"

"I was never cruel to him. I did what I did because I loved him more than I loved myself. This latest act of his, well, it's selfish! I tried to talk to him so many times. He just turned away from me. Harry built a wall between us and the harder I tried to break it, the higher that wall became. I tried everything short of screaming at him. I simply lingered in his presence; waiting for the day he would remember that I was still there and that I loved him.

"The night of our anniversary he came to me. It was the old Harry, the one who loved me without reserve, whose gentle touch conveyed his every emotion. I fell asleep that night with the greatest sensation of peace, with his arms around me and I wore a smile in all of my dreams."

"What happened?"

"He left me in the darkness, as he usually does, and when I woke in the morning, it was to the nastiest bastard in all of England. He was so i_angry_ and it was so… _directionless!/I_ He carried on about how selfish it was for me to open the windows and how it was all about me and what _I_ wanted and whatnot.

"At first, when we moved into this house, he used to lay beside me with the bed on the roof, in the open air, while we listened to the Moonlight Sonata. He would put his arms around me and tell me how he loved to sleep with the wind in his hair and the moon shining down on him as he drifted off. He told me how he'd dreamt of riding his broom, high above the world and all alone in the night, at peace with the feeling that he was invincible and thatI _everything_/I was copasetic.

"His accusations were ridiculous. I mean, I know him i_so well_,/I Nikolae. He I_does/I_ love to sleep with the wind in his hair. Yet there he was, slamming the windows and saying he'd always hated having them open. At last, after years of his emotional neglect, something inside of me snapped. I screamed at him. I hated him in those moments, and I tossed Harry and all of his belongings from our bedroom. I wish he'd left that morning. It would have been easier. At that time, I felt like I never wanted to see him again as long as I lived. I couldn't stand him anymore. I was tired of trying. Tired of I_everything!/I _It was Draco who rescued my sanity. In his company, I felt as though my life served some sort of purpose again. I no longer felt so useless and I_discarded."/I_

"I have never heard such bitterness in your words."

"I have never i_felt/I_ such bitterness." Sara turned to face him, pulling her half-black hair over one shoulder. "Come closer, my friend. I want you to understand." She tipped her head and waited.

Hesitant, Nikolae's hand slipped around to cradle the nape of her neck. He caught her violet eyes and held them, thinking, i_this is how Draco feels whenever she's near to him. Whenever he feels her touch or catches her eyes with his own_./i The vampire had wanted this most intimate encounter for far too long and found his hands were shaking as he moved closer to her. His gentle voice echoed through her mind. i_Only because you ask me to./i_

Sara breathed deep as his teeth stung her neck, wanting to gasp, but not wanting him to think she was in pain. In fact, it was a pleasant feeling, like a sweet, erotic sensation of comfort, dreamlike, as though a sleepy potion seeped through her veins. She embraced her darkest friend, pulling him closer, pressing her neck to his lips.

Nikolae pulled away and laid a handkerchief against the wounds. "Rest yourself, Nikita. I took more than I should have."

Sara leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed. "It's such a wonderful feeling. I'm glad it didn't end so quickly this time."

His voice was gentle as it always was when he spoke, and the vampire stroked her hair with a loving hand. "It disturbs me, the way mortals succumb to the rapture my bite produces. Such deception! They nearly beg for me to take their lives."

"It's better that way. So peaceful."

"Unlike your own feelings. They are anything but that."

"I couldn't describe how I felt. So many things all at once."

"You're glad that he left."

"Yes… and no. I'm glad that the torment of living with him is over, but I still love him as I always have. I just can't i_take/i_ it anymore. I'd have left before long if he hadn't."

"Yet it is not what you wanted."

"Of course not. I wanted to feel loved again, that's all. He could stay out all night for all I care, as long as he left me with the security I once had, the trust. I i_knew/I_ how much he loved me. He never had to say it because I felt it in everything he did. Every caress, every glance. It's been so long since I've felt that way. Nikolae, my heart is broken."

He caught her as weakness overtook her strength and Nikolae cursed himself. "I took too much," he whispered and lifted Sara in his arms, "Come Nikita, you must rest now."

She was asleep as he laid her down on the bed and pulled the covers over her, chilled to the bone and shivering. He was now warm with her blood and riddled with guilt for having taken it, such a profound and cherished gift. A gift she had bestowed upon him only once before, out of necessity. Tonight, she had given it freely, out of love and friendship, and his immortal heart swelled with love for her in return. Nikolae did something then that he had never done as long as he'd known her. He climbed under the covers and held her in a close embrace, the way a mortal would, so that she might have some feeling of security or consolation in all her sad and tragic dreams.

* * *

Sylvia slipped from the bed, wrapped in a sheet and with a sly smile on her long, thin face. "Has the boy responded yet? I'm not the most patient of witches, Severus."

Snape propped his head on his elbow, reclining against the pillows with the coverlet draped across his waist. He watched her cross the room, moving slowly, the sheet whispering as she moved. Her long black hair swayed as she glanced back at him over her shoulder.

"He's not exactly a I_boy./I _He's twenty-seven years old, in case you forgot. I can't imagine why you'd send Draco Malfoy an owl, anyway. What could you possibly want with him?"

"He knows what it's about."

"Funny, I saw him just the other day, right before we met for lunch, actually, and I mentioned you several times. He didn't even let on that he i_knew/I_ you, much less corresponded with you on a regular basis."

"Did he mention where he's living now?"

Something told Snape to lie, which he had no problem doing. Sylvia had always been dark and calculating, which was one of the things he liked most about her, but he knew when to talk and when to hide the truth. "We didn't get around to discussing his living arrangements. I was too happy to see him in Sara's company to linger on such trivial things. They seemed to be getting on quite well. It was nice to see her smile again, but who could blame a person for being so I_miserable/I_ after seven years with Harry Potter?"

"Let's invite Draco to dinner."

"Well _that's_ not blatantly obvious."

"True. Why don't we invite Sara, as well?"

"That would be less obvious, though I'd love to know why we're having this little dinner party."

Sylvia sighed as she watched out the window, searching the night sky for Snape's black owl. "Do you ever stop asking questions, Severus? Do you really need a reason to invite your two favorite young people to dinner?"

"I suppose I don't, but it isn't exactly something I've made a habit of doing over the years. They're bound to wonder why they're there."

"They'll think you're trying to get them together, of course, and hasn't that been your life's mission?" Sylvia turned away from the window and smiled as she returned to the bed as he watched her every move. The sheet made little sound as it fell to the floor. "Allow me to distract you from the matter at hand."

Snape smiled back. "Distract away."

* * *

Sara turned in his arms as she woke with a sleepy, contented smile. Her voice was the sweetest whisper as her hands slipped around him. i_"Nikolae."/I_

"Yes, it is I."

"I have dreamed of this moment many times."

He kissed her forehead, his hand stroking her hair where it lay against her back. "And was it a good dream?"

"It was."

"And was I good to you in it?"

Her kisses fell soft against his neck. "You are i_always/I_ good to me."

"I see your thoughts, Nikita. You should not have such thoughts."

"Why shouldn't I? I have seen your thoughts as well. You can't hide such feeling from me any more than I can hide it from you."

He kissed her head again. "You are my i_beloved_,/I not my lover. Such a union could only be forsaken."

Sara tightened her arms around him. "Does this feel forsaken?"

Nikolae sighed, flooded with the memory of her blood in his veins, of the rapture he'd felt as he'd held her so close, as her essence flowed over his tongue and wrapped him in emotion so strong that he was nearly overcome. He'd savored it as he'd savored no blood before it and to know that she desired him made his heart ache with mortal longing. "You are lonely, my child, and I am a monster. Do not let kindness disguise my nature, for my kiss is death."

Sara lifted her head where it rested on his shoulder and kissed him in the darkness, feeling the hard press of his fangs against the softness of his lips. Her tongue found the sharp taper and allowed itself to be cut, leaking what he so desired as a reminder of the secret affection they'd shared on the veranda a few hours before. Her voice whispered through his mind. i_Your kiss is the same as mine._

_Perhaps, but you are mistaken in me. _

_I know you too well to be mistaken. You are too close to my heart._

_And you to mine./I _The trickle of blood that passed from her stirred the need he'd felt for so long, the hunger he so coveted, and as he kissed her, the vampire was overwhelmed by his desires, both of the blood and of the flesh. To feel her touch in the darkness, her warmth, the slow beat of her heart… to feel these things was to be touched by glorious madness. i_Nikita…/I _he whispered, I_I am not as strong as this./I_

Sara let her head drift back down to lay on his shoulder and he pulled her so close against him, wrapped her in such an embrace that he worried he would cause her harm. Sara only sighed against his neck, letting his darkest thoughts drift through her mind.

"Your heart struggles with your conscious."

"I have spent a millennium mourning the loss of the only woman with whom I've been intimate. The truth is; I barely knew Antonya at all." Nikolae released her again and smoothed her hair from her face as he held her eyes. "What you need to understand is that one day you will leave this world, Nikita, and I will not. If we do this, it would hold such meaning for me, such personal magnitude, that I would spend eternity suffering the agony of your loss. Surely it will be difficult enough already."

"You shouldn't doom yourself to such an existence, closing your heart to those who love you as I do, afraid to feel, afraid to experience life. You're right. One day I _will_ leave this world, and this single moment will have passed, never to return. Will you regret letting it slip through your hands?"

"I have never wished to be mortal the way I wish it tonight. Not in a thousand years. This moment will haunt me, of that I am certain, but how could I take advantage of a friend whose emotional distress causes her to reach out to someone who would never betray her most profound trust? Besides, my greatest fear is that it will be _you_ who feels regret, and so I must protect your broken heart. Your husband has hurt you. I refuse to do the same."

Sara smiled, knowing what he said was true. She needed someone. Someone who understood her, who could ease the pain Harry had left behind. "I am lonely tonight, you're right about that, but you are no monster. Not in _my_ eyes."

"What am I then, if not that?"

"My beloved."

Nikolae smiled wider. "Were I a mortal, we would have a love affair, you and I."

Sara returned his smile and let her hand caress his face. "And what a love affair it would be."

"But I am no mortal, and so I cannot give you what you need, Nikita. Do not tempt me this way. Do not fill my soul with such passion."

"I didn't mean to upset you."

"It is my fault. I am a man in your eyes. I shouldn't confuse you this way."

Her hands crept over his body, gentle, and without reservation. "You feel like a man to me."

"This body is not my own."

"I have seen your true form. You are still a man, vampire or not. I am not confused."

"It is love and acceptance that you seek, this I know, but I am not the one to give it. I am not the one your heart desires, Nikita. I can see him in all of your thoughts."

"I don't know what you mean."

"It doesn't matter. Sleep now. I will be gone with the sunrise."

Sara smiled. "See? You're still a man after all. Kiss me before you go."

He kissed her again and held her close. "You know I will. Sleep now, my love. Let your dreams be as sweet as your embrace."

* * *

Draco sighed as he opened his eyes to find himself alone. After only a few days of waking in her company, his bed was that much emptier. The silence echoed with the sounds of his own breathing, and for a single frightening moment, he realized that he might spend the rest of his life this way, suspended between moments, awaiting the only thing that truly mattered.

Draco drank what sat beside his bed, hoping the fever would stay away today. He hated feeling so wretched when Sara was with him. She was so full of life, her eyes alive with it, waiting every minute to see what manner of smile he would elicit with his wit and his charm. It killed him to be in her coveted presence and want only to lie down and die. Of course, he loved those soft, gentle moments they shared as she cooled his brow with a tepid cloth or smoothed back his hair as she told him stories of Romania or Manhattan. These moments mattered, too, he knew, but there would be plenty of time for them later. Right now, he only wanted to make her happy, and to _be_ happy beside her.

Kissing Sara without her consent was a risk he'd taken, and obviously, it had backfired. For the first time in a week, she had stayed away. How could he be so careless? So i_stupid/I?_ Actually, Draco thought, it had worked better than anything else he'd ever tried, even if it resulted in scaring her off for a few days, difficult as they might be to get through. Rousing a woman's feelings was always a delicate task, but when it came to Sara, who had never known anything other than boring old Harry Potter, he had to be especially careful. He couldn't read her as well as he'd like to think, and that made calculating his every move more difficult than he'd ever imagined. Draco had always responded with his heart when it came to Sara, and it had endeared him to her, but now it was time to step it up before he ran out of time.

Speaking of running out of time, Draco had slept later than planned, due to the fact that he'd been so sure she would come to him last night, that he had stayed up far later than normal. He chose his attire with haste and gave his appearance only a momentary glance.

He still had a new batch to brew, having lost all seven to the negligence of a house elf who had abandoned his keep. Then there was the letter he'd ignored. He'd have to answer it before leaving for Diagon Alley, unpleasant a task though it was. Sylvia was a slippery creature, an old acquaintance of his father's, who had barely escaped Azkaban on more than one occasion. Sylvia was one of the craftier players, never giving the game away, and the fact that she was writing to him yet again brought a grimace of displeasure to his already unhappy face. What more could she want with him? And why was she interested in Snape again? The woman had more ulterior motives than ten Death Eaters put together. Why wouldn't she just go away, leave him alone? With a sigh, he opened the letter and sat on the edge of the bed. A moment later, he scribbled off a reply and shoved it at Spooky, who still waited on the back of a chair. The sleek black owl only hooted and flew onto the desk, where yet another letter waited. This one was from Snape.

_iDraco,_

_Being that we haven't spoken for so long and time was so short the other day, I thought I would throw a little dinner party tomorrow night. I've rented the Merlin Room at the Houndstooth Club in Liverpool. Drinks will be served at seven and dress is formal. I would very much like for you to come as my guest of honor. _

_Severus Snape_

_PS: I have also invited Sara, but not Potter./I_

At last, Draco smiled. He wrote a short note in reply, accepting Snape's invitation with a new attitude toward the day. Sara would never decline such a rare offer from someone she was so close to. He knew she would go, just as he knew she wouldn't bring Harry.

It had been years since he'd put on a suit, and Draco found he fancied the idea of once again looking like what he was; the wealthiest man in wizarding England.

* * *

Harry awoke feeling as though he hadn't slept. He'd lain awake most of the night in his new flat, missing the sounds of the waves crashing against the rocks, and full of anxiety over what he had done. Now, the bustle of people had roused him, tired and grouchy and, well, miserable as could be.

Being as there was no food, he would have to go shopping first thing, and Harry thought he would stop over at the Leaky Cauldron for breakfast before heading out. He also needed a few things from home which he had forgotten in his rush to leave. Initially, he had intended to speak to Sara directly, but the locator had changed his mind and he'd only hoped to escape before she came back. He'd kept a close eye on the locator after his talk with Nikolae and his mind spiked with anger at the thought of her hand on i_"Snogging."/I _ It had lingered there only a few moments, but long enough to send his heart straight into his stomach. Harry decided that, the next time he saw Draco, the first thing he would do was deliver on an old promise. After all, Draco Malfoy had to be the most audacious creep alive, Minister's Medal of Heroism or not!

There was _so much_ to do today that Harry was left feeling a little daunted. Part of him wanted to lie in bed and sulk over the dissolution of his marriage, the other part was excited at the prospect of a new life, full of new opportunities and maybe even a little adventure. After stocking the flat, there was a meeting with Ron and Hermione, which he'd called to discuss the new information from Kreacher, setting up shop with what he could find nearby, and he would need a sign, of course. With a scowl, Harry realized he would also need to make arrangements to have the tile in the front room changed to a lighter color. As much as he hated to admit it, Sara had been right. It looked completely hideous.

As if this wasn't enough for one day, there was still unpacking to do and Harry had invited his new friend Mariah for lunch at Mystic's café. Yes, he thought, it was dangerous having lunch with such a captivating young woman mere steps from Sara's shop, but the way Harry saw it, if Sara could have a ridiculously good looking friend like Draco Malfoy, than perhaps a taste of her own medicine was in order. Harry smiled at this, but the part of him that already missed her nearly collapsed with sorrow.

* * *

Draco sat on the step with the present on his lap, watching the passers-by, hungry and bored. He'd been so afraid of running behind that he'd hurried out the door without breakfast, and now i_she/I_ was late. It was like her to be a little late, most women tend to be, but not i_two hours/I_ late, and certainly not without word. He often glanced at the sky for Topenga, but she was as absent as her owner.

He wished Sara would hurry up. It wasn't in his nature to grow irritated with her, but he was in no mood to bear witness to the antics of her neighbors. He was in no mood for that drunken goof called Warf, who had just fallen into his usual place on Slyth's bench and opened his first beer of the day as some chain-smoking, blonde woman rubbed sunscreen on his red and peeling head. i(_"Now keep that damned hat on before you get sun poisoning! If I come back and see you with it off I'll kick your ass!")/I _He was in no mood to hear Slyth yelling out to them, small talk one would usually reserve for closer proximity. No mood to watch Mystic, whose hair was now almost as black as Slyth's, setting up for the lunchtime crowd behind her plate-glass windows. No mood to hear children of all ages filing into Lisa Rene's bookstore, and in no mood to feel the evil eyes of that psycho-witch, Sybil, or Hawthorn, whatever her name was, glaring at him from behind a dingy lace curtain. And he was I_certainly/I_ in no mood to be stood up. Again, he thought of yesterday's poor judgment and sighed with his entire being. He couldn't back down at this point. Time was running short.

Draco climbed to his feet, laying the present aside, and brushed the dust from his trousers. His first inclination was to leave and go home and make her come to him, but there was I_so much/I_ potential for that particular course of action to backfire, that he decided to hold true to his new attitude regarding Sara. Collecting the gift he'd brought her, Draco went home just long enough to neaten his appearance and grab his broom.

* * *

True to his word, Nikolae had retired to his sarcophagus at sunrise and Sara found she was alone in the bed. Reflecting on the night, she found she was glad he'd reacted in such an honorable manner. She was lonely, so lonely she could never describe the feeling to another, and one long night with a vampire was hardly what she needed. Nikolae, ever the wizened one, had known this, of course, and had foreseen the regret she knew she would have felt, had he allowed it to happen. There had only ever been Harry, and once she strayed from that dedication, it could not be undone. She was certainly angry with Harry, disgusted actually, but she thought it sensible to sort out her feelings and decide what was best for her before venturing into uncharted waters.

Sara sighed. She was confused, as Nikolae had tried to tell her. In fact, her confusion was as vast as the sea below this very room, deep and wide, and tossed in every direction. Sara turned her back on the sun and fell headlong into self-pity, crying tears of anguish to her empty house, unable to rise from the bed, her shop and her plans forgotten.

* * *

It had taken such a long time to shop that Harry was now behind schedule. He hadn't realized the magnitude of what he lacked, which turned out to be pretty much I_everything./I_ As it was, he still had a patio set for a kitchen table, no soap, no dishes, and no curtains on the windows. At least he now had some food, though all he could make were sandwiches. He had no pots or pans. No silverware. No glasses. He didn't even have a cup for the tea he'd bought. Harry considered turning Hedwig into one, but cringed at the idea of drinking out of his owl.

Harry glanced at the locator and saw that Sara was still i_"Home." /I_ That was rather inconvenient, as he had only a moment to blink in and grab what he would need to properly tend to the guests he expected any moment. If meeting Sara at the house was his only option, then his guests would be getting sandwiches and butterbeer, no contest. He found he couldn't bear to see her. The opportunity had passed while he considered it, anyway. The bell was ringing. Ron and Hermione were at the door.

Harry bounded down the stairs, excited to finally get some feedback on a few of the thoughts he'd had concerning the brownish-yellow potion. He was sure Hermione had a few of her own as well, and knew she'd have her arms loaded with books. However, when Harry opened the door, Hermione held only her stomach and it was Ron who was laden with texts.

Hermione groaned. "Let me in! I_Quick!" /I_

Harry moved aside and she rushed past him. He turned to Ron and took half of the books. "Is it me, or did Hermione look a little green?"

"It's morning sickness. I hope it stops happening because Hermione carries entirely too much stuff around. My arms are about to fall off!" He shook them, as if to see if they would indeed detach and fall to the floor.

"So she's sick a lot, then?"

"Not every day. I guess it depends. It's pretty random. Doesn't matter what she eats, or _if _she eats. Mum says it'll pass soon."

Hermione returned from the lav, looking pale, but better. "Sorry, Harry. Not the nicest greeting."

Harry smiled. "Are you feeling better? You can lie down if you want. I got Dumbledore's old flying carpet for you, so you don't have to climb the stairs every time you come over."

Hermione smiled her appreciation. "I'm alright. Thanks, Harry. That was so thoughtful of you."

"I thought of it when you were here last night, when you sent Mariah for drinks. It's been laying around for years, but it still works just fine."

Harry helped her onto the carpet as he and Ron followed her up the stairs. Ron helped her to sit on the couch and then took a seat at the other end. Hermione reclined against the arm, kicked off her shoes, and swung her feet onto the cushions. Harry pulled a patio chair in from the kitchen and sat facing them, the coffee table, which held a napkin, piled high with jelly sandwiches, and three bottles of butterbeer, between them.

Hermione looked around. "Harry, something's not right. There's an awful lot of luggage stacked in the corner. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were moving in."

"I'm not i_moving/I_ in," Harry sighed and slumped in his chair, "I already have."

* * *

There were ducks in the wading pool and Draco thought it would be fun to swoop down and grab one, then imagined the horror on Sara's face if she saw, and thought better of it. He landed in the flower-choked front garden, just inside the gate, and looked around. Years had passed since he'd been here last, yet it still looked like an impossible scene from some whimsical, frilly poem. Every hue fell into harmony, creating a flawless vision in perfect symmetry with nature. Flower petals in purple, blue and white drifted from the twisted umbrella trees, tumbling through the air like summer snow and a most serene expression softened his face. It was easy to daydream in a place like this, of living here, amid all this beauty with Sara by his side, wandering through these gardens with the sun glowing white-gold in their hair and warm on their shoulders. Draco sighed. Sometimes it was easy to forget that this was Harry's home and that the girl he dreamed was his belonged to someone else.

Draco rang the doorbell and waited with a stiff spine, hands clasped in front, and with his chin high. It was the same haughty stance he'd displayed all his life, and one Sara always said made him look pompous, condescending, and on edge. Now conscious of it, he lowered his chin and, with effort, leaned on one foot. He let his hands fall to the sides, felt weird, and clasped them again. The mix of casual and formal was odd, and so Draco straightened up. The idea of standing around with his hands in his pockets seemed ludicrous. He refused to appear on a lady's doorstep looking sloppy and bored. Draco sighed for the millionth time that day. He _was_ pompous, on edge, and condescending, he thought, and he could stand no other way.

Realizing too much time had passed, Draco rang again. When no one appeared, he drew his wand and held his breath. Opening the door to a wizarding home was a risky endeavor when that home wasn't one's own, and Draco expected all manner of terrible things to happen when he turned the knob. He breathed his relief when the only unexpected event was when the door swung in on its hinges. It was rather odd that the home of the Elemental and the wizarding world's most celebrated idiot was unlocked and unwarded. Draco thought it might be a good idea to keep his wand in hand as he crossed the threshold and entered.

"Sara? Hello? Anybody here?"

His voice echoed through the vast, empty house, so much like Malfoy Manor that he almost felt at home. His query was met with no reply. He hurried through the lobby, the library, the solarium. He checked the kitchen, the dining room, and the veranda. He even rode his broom around the perimeter, checking the various balconies, terraces, and the walled rooftop for any sign of her, but there was none.

With one option left, Draco risked her fury and flew to the topmost windows of the small tower on the back corner of the house, where he knew she slept.

There she was, curled on the bed in her nightgown, the covers all askew, tissue in hand and sniffling. Draco brush his earlier determination aside, landed on the sill with a gentler disposition, and jumped to the floor with a clumsy thud. Sara didn't even look, only pulled the covers over her head, her blonde and black hair spilling down the side of the pillow.

"Sara?"

Her only reply was a choked hitch of breath from under the coverlet.

Draco dropped his broom into the corner and took off his shoes. "Where's Potter?"

"He moved."

Draco undressed to his t-shirt and shorts and climbed under the covers, pulling them over his head, too. He said nothing as he moved closer, his heart racing in his chest. Her back was to him and he slipped his arms around her.

* * *

"You've got a lot of guts, flying into my bedroom like that. What if Harry'd been here? He'd have cursed you straight into an early grave."

"I like to live dangerously."

"I'm serious, you know."

"I was worried about you. It's not your style to make plans and then simply fail to show up. When I found the door unlocked, I thought I'd better make sure everything was ok. After all, the two of you seem to have permanent targets on your backs."

"He knows I've been going to your house."

"He didn't accuse you of anything, did he?"

"Silently."

"He's one to talk!"

"I can't prove anything, Draco. I don't even know who to point my finger at."

"Well, I do. There was more than one reason I was hoping you'd show up last night. Firstly, when I went to get the sandwiches, I was talking to the owner and she said that Potter came in that afternoon and met that girl who won the beauty contest. She said he seemed upset, and that as soon as the girl arrived, they left together. It might be nothing, but given the circumstances, I'd say it's probably significant."

"Harry was i_staring/I_ at her the other day!"

"Then, when I got home from your shop, I spoke to my father's portrait and he told me something a little too coincidental to be false."

Sara sniffled. "You shouldn't believe everything he says, Draco. He's a malicious liar."

"This is a little different. I hadn't discussed a word of what you told me with him, or even in front of him, and he told me that Harry was cheating on you."

Sara took in a sharp breath and turned on the bed to face him with wide eyes. "What did he say?! If you don't tell me right now, I'm using the veritas curse."

The night of your anniversary, my father decided to visit my other house and found Christina had a friend over. She was crying, he said, and Harry calmed her down. Talked to her for awhile. The next day he came back and asked her to lunch. Then, later that night, she left with him again, and returned, all glowing and windswept, and happy as could be, spouting off about sitting on the minute hand of Big Ben and going to the Eiffel Tower or something. He'd taken her flying, and it seemed that they'd had a great time. My father said they had a few drinks, laughed all night, and did some silly dancing. By that time it was pretty late, I figured it was right about the same time you left my house, and he said the two of them were snogging like teenagers on the parlor floor."

Sara's eyes had run with tears and she closed them, her voice a miserable whisper. i_"Christina." /I_

"I'm as surprised as you are, Sara."

Sara got to her feet and paced the floor, angry and distraught. "No wonder she left the party so early! Harry was so despondent all evening and she wasn't herself. She practically ran out the door, the first to leave, actually, and Harry crept away as soon as I fell asleep. He was so cold to me the next day, Draco; I mean he was really just I_awful. /I_ I tried to tell him about my shop and he made me cry."

There's something I need to tell you, Sara. I should have told you long before now, but haven't had the chance."

Sara was too busy gathering clothes from around the room and already had a couple of things half on. "Where is your little girlfriend, Draco? I think I need to have a talk with Christina and I need to have it RIGHT i_NOW!" /I_

Draco rose and stood beside the bed with his hands clasped in front. "She won't know who you are."

Sara put her shirt on backward. "She'll remember right quick then, won't she?"

"Christina has paid for her mistakes, Sara. Calm down. Take those clothes back off."

"What are you talking about?"

Draco approached her and lifted the shirt back over her head. "Sit down. I've done something and I think you need to know about it. "

* * *

Draco's heart sank as he remembered the look on Sara's face when they'd approached her shop. He couldn't believe the nerve of Harry, sitting right there in the open where he knew she would see, with the girl who'd won the beauty pageant, holding hands across the table. Potter sat there, smiling and laughing as though he hadn't just walked out on his wife the night before. Sara, of course, had burst into tears and run back the way they'd come. Draco had been so furious that he'd decided to take matters into his own hands.

Draco sat at the writing desk, watching the night through the open window as Sara lay curled on the bed, her eyes liquid and red-rimmed, and her voice was tinged with bitterness when she spoke. "You really punched him in the face?"

"Hard as I could."

"And I suppose you expect me to say you shouldn't have."

"Naturally."

"I hope you knocked him right to the ground! i_Bravo, /I_ Draco, I don't think I could ever thank you enough. After that, I hope his little twelve year old girlfriend choked on her lunch."

"I think she's closer to twenty."

"Ha! Like i_that's/I_ an improvement."

What Draco had actually done was grab Potter right out of his chair and deliver the hardest blow he could muster. Draco had become so angry over Harry's disrespect for Sara, that it's a wonder the incredible git lived through the encounter. I_"You never deserved her!" /I_ he'd shouted and gave Harry a swift kick in the ribs before he hurried away to find Sara, who he knew would be a wreck after seeing her husband with another woman. So he had, in fact, knocked Harry to the ground, but only smiled at Sara's comment. It didn't occur to him to brag.

"At least Christina was around his age, not that sneaking around with I_your/I_ girlfriend was much better than dating a teenager barely out of Hogwarts!"

"Agreed. Chris certainly isn't the person I thought she was. Imagine, coming to your anniversary party!"

Sara laughed, incredulous and bitter. "Yes, she even offered to help me set up for it! I can't stand that she actually showed up here and celebrated my marriage to Harry. I'm glad you did what you did, Draco. It's such sweet vengeance to know she won't remember him."

"I'm glad I had her memory erased, too. After all, she only proved herself a betrayer. They both did. To hell with them. We don't need either one of them."

"I couldn't have said it better! I'm done moping around and feeling sorry for myself, Draco. If he wants to behave that way, then I will respond accordingly. All those years I've wasted! I gave him all of my trust, and this is what I get in return? A string of infidelities, lies, and disdain? I can't believe the sort of person Harry turned out to be. I can't understand what I did so wrong!"

"You only made one mistake." Draco turned in his chair and held her eyes for a long moment, serious and inflective. "Years ago, Sara, you had a choice to make. Two completely different lives laid themselves out before you, both offered the level of commitment you desired for yourself, but it seems only one had the strength to endure. Perhaps you chose the wrong path."

Sara said nothing, having had that very thought so many times already.

"That other path currently sits in front of you, Sara. I think it's time you ventured down it."

"I shouldn't be making a decision like that right now. I can't allow myself to do the wrong thing and end up losing you as a friend. I need time."

"Sara, please don't go back to Potter. Not after today. I mean, who knows how many others he's been seeing? You deserve far better than that."

"I've been made a fool of, it seems, and it's such a devastating, deeply personal feeling. It will take time to get over it. Draco, please don't rush me."

"Then tell me, could you even think of me that way? Or do you find the idea repulsive?"

At long last, Sara smiled. "You are anything but repulsive. At least in my eyes. And to be honest, I've thought about you that way too many times to count."

"What, just recently?"

"For a very long time."

It was Draco's turn to smile. "There's something I want to show you. It's probably the coolest thing Malfoys ever collected." Draco stood and went to the side of the bed. He held out his hand. "Come on, I think you could use a little pick-me-up."

Sara took his hand and followed him through the halls and into a small room full of maps and bureaus. Sara noticed each chest of drawers was labeled with the name of each of the seven continents. Sara looked on as Draco opened a drawer, packed full of tiny wooden boxes.

"They're port keys!"

"Yes, to destinations all over the world."

"This is incredible! I've never seen a collection like this!"

"Only the Ministry's can compare, but there aren't as many here as you might think. Most of these have a duplicate. Now where should we go for dinner?"

"Someplace tropical."

Draco went to the drawer marked "South America," rummaged around for a few minutes, and then turned to grin at her with a little wooden box in his fingers. "One oceanside café in Tahiti, coming up. Get over here and put your arms around me or I'm going without you."

Sara did as she was told. "Draco," she smiled as her arms tightened around him, "Make me forget about all of this. Just for one night. Make the black in my hair disappear."

Draco's grin widened. "If you insist."

"I think it's time I had a little excitement in my life. Why should Harry have all the fun? Then again, he'll realize the extent of his errors, come tomorrow."

"What do you plan to do?"

"You'll see," she said and gave him a sweet, friendly kiss, "Now touch the damned key or I'm going without you."

* * *

138


	9. Chapter 9: Your Summer Heart

The Girl in the Tower 2: Seasons of Discontent Ch. 9: Your Summer Heart

**Part Two: Be Here Now**

_**C**__**ha**__**p**__**ter 9: Your Summer Heart**_

i _When Autumn comes, it doesn't ask_

_Just walks in where it left you last_

_You never know just when it starts_

_Until there's fog inside the glass around_

_Your summer heart/I_

~ John Mayer – Something's Missing

I Nikita,

Something tells me you are far from home this night, and I never thought to tell you that I wanted to see you. Now here I sit, with many things on my mind, and no one to share them with except myself. Your house is a very lonely place when you are not inside it.

I spoke with Harry this evening and he is akin to a train wreck. He acts as though all is well, but I could see the duress and the sleepless nights in his eyes. He worries about what he has done, what you saw near your shop today, and he professes his innocence. I walked with him around the square, and there was such listlessness in his demeanor as to betray his misery. I worry about him.

You elicit my concern as well, Nikita. Our last meeting weighs heavy on my mind and I worry about you with every waking moment. I worry about your recent re-acquaintance, and what it means to your future. I worry about what was on your mind last night as well. You seem to have a newfound desire for everything you've denied yourself, now that Harry has gone. My intuition tells me that, whatever you are feeling, it's destructive, and can only bring you to a place you never wished to be. I can level no restrictions on you. All I can do, as your true friend, is to beg of you, make no rash decisions. You are confused right now, Nikita. In time, all of the answers will rise from the muck of such chaos. Reason will prevail, but only if you are willing to wait for it.

I had hoped, as I wrote this letter in the last moments of the night, that you would come to me and set my mind at ease. You have stirred something in me that had rested in silence until now. I missed your presence tonight more than I have since our first fateful meeting under the tree, that long ago summer night in Florence. I still remember the distrust in your eyes. I remember it each time I look in them now, and see that it has gone.

You have my heart, my dearest beloved; I pray you are gentle with it.

Nikolae_/I_

* * *

"Morning sleepyhead."

Sara moaned and threw an arm over her sensitive eyes, still closed against the bright morning sun. "What is that I_noise?"__ /I_

Draco groaned his response."Birds, I think. Filthy scavengers."

Waves crashed against the shore, a sound altogether different from the sounds of the surf crashing against the cliffs at home and Sara opened her eyes once more, squinting against the glare as she tried to look around. "We slept on the beach?"

"As good a place to sleep as any, and better than I_most__/I_ at that. It was your idea, after all, and a rather good one, if I may say so." Draco rolled onto his side to face her, propped his head on one elbow, and grinned when he saw the misery he felt was mirrored in her expression. "You can let go of that tequila any time, you know."

"Why didn't you take us home?"

"Are you kidding? Who do you think drank half of that?"

Sara stuck the bottle in the powdery, white sand with little thought. Her stomach protested at the very sight of it, empty or not. "Please tell me you're the one who ate the worm?"

"I'm very glad to say it was you."

"No it wasn't. I_You__/I_ ate it. I remember it perfectly!" Sara burst out laughing and rolled over in the sand so she could see the disgust on his face. I_"Worm, worm, worm…__/I_ remember? I wouldn't eat it, so you were the tough guy, gonna show me how a I_real__/I_tequila drinker does it."

Draco wanted to hide his face in embarrassment. "How perfectly revolting! I ate a I_worm__/I__!_ And what was I talking about? A I_real__/I_ tequila drinker? I think last night was probably the first time I've ever had it, to be honest. What a show-off! You must think I'm ridiculous!"

"Only a little," Sara laughed, "But I have to admit, when I said I wanted a little adventure, last night was hardly what I had in mind. I don't think I've ever had so much fun! I mean, we were moping around your house, and the next thing you know, I wake up on a beach in Tahiti. I_That's__/I_ adventure."

"I think that tango we did last night was more of an adventure than this."

"Ugh! Did you have to remind me of the dancing? I hope no one noticed."

"Noticed? They were all standing around in a circle, watching us make fools of ourselves." Draco pulled the hem of his shirt over his face. "I want to hide all of a sudden. We're never coming back here."

"Come on now, it's not all I_that_ _/I_bad! If I recall, we were rather good!"

"Must be you forgot about the part where you fell off the table and knocked that poor, unsuspecting Asian couple into the pool. Nice way to break your fall, though."

"Oh geeze." Sara cringed and finally understood Draco's sudden desire to hide. "Hardly as bad as when that poor old woman wouldn't dance with you, so you pulled her I_skirt__/I_ up over her head! I thought her shriveled old husband was going to cough to death after he tried to yell at you."

"That was my evil twin. I was off doing something perfectly respectable when that happened."

"Damn that Kevin Malfoy!" Sara smirked and tossed sand on his shirt. "Respectable my ass. You can party with the best of them, Malfoy, and I'm sorry to say I never knew it."

"I could say the same about you! Imagine, Sara," Draco could hardly talk through his sudden laughter, "We got I_thrown out!"__ /I_

Sara held her stomach as she bellowed laughter at the memory.

"Now I_that's_ _/I_some serious amateurism, getting thrown out of a hotel pool bar. You wanted excitement? I_Mission accomplished."__ /I_

"You know what? I have to agree one hundred percent. Mission accomplished! I mean, we had an excellent dinner in one of the most beautiful places on Earth, got absolutely stupid crazy on tequila, danced with the grace and perfection that only you and I seem to have, made complete asses of ourselves and laughed all night long, then fell asleep on the beach in Tahiti. And to think, I wasn't expecting much."

"You don't know what you've been missing! Of course, I only got the door to the port key collection open last night. When I said I wanted to show it to I_you,_ _/I_my father finally saw fit to tell me the password." Draco smiled and grew serious again. "Sara, that was, by far, the most fun I've ever had at any time in my life. This tops the Yule Ball as my favorite memory. I'm glad it was with you."

Sara smiled and curled her finger around one of his. "Waking up on the beach in paradise, with a monster hang-over, was the perfect ending for it."

"I thought that was the best part."

"Me too."

"So? What do we do now?"

"Now, we go home. I've got a few things coming to the shop this morning, and I still have no idea what to wear to Severus' dinner tonight."

"I'm in the same boat. It's been so long since I've dressed in proper clothes that I may have forgotten how. I think I want something new, anyway. I've taken a liking to new things lately. Hey, I've got a port key that will take us to the high-end shopping district in New York City!"

"Fifth Avenue? That's in Manhattan. That's where I'm from." Sara's face grew dark. "I think London will serve us well."

"It always does. However, if all the port keys are as fun as this one turned out to be, than perhaps we should employ more of them?"

"We have lives, you know."

""Not me. I feel as though I serve little purpose these days. I prefer hanging around with you to sitting around the family home."

"Then why do you do it? No one's keeping you there."

"It all had to do with Christina in the beginning. If someone saw me out and about, then she would know I'd lied to her. After awhile, I became accustomed to seclusion. After that, home became the only place I was comfortable. Until you showed up, that is. The second I saw you standing there in my father's study, I realized what a loser I'd become. I became very aware of my situation, you could say. I was embarrassed."

"At least you didn't I_shop__/I_ yourself into oblivion, just so you wouldn't have to be home. My life wasn't so wonderful, either, Draco, and I was embarrassed, too. I didn't want you to know how bad things had gotten with Harry. But when I found you in your father's study… I don't know how to describe it. You can't possibly understand how happy I was to see you."

"I think I understand perfectly."

"Yes," she curled a second finger into his hand, and then the other two as well, "I think maybe you do."

"Why are we talking about all this? It's depressing! You're streak had all but disappeared and now it's creeping back right before my eyes. Care for a mimosa and some fruit for breakfast before we return to our lives?" He stood and helped her up.

Sara brushed sand from his shoulder, smiled, and kissed his cheek. "I think that sounds splendid."

* * *

Harry awoke to the sounds of a crowd for the second time, and hated it just as much as he had yesterday. His face was still bruised from where Malfoy had punched him and Harry winced, having forgotten about the oh-so-attractive black eye he was sporting. He'd managed to shrink the swelling, but Hermione had refused to heal it, saying he'd gotten exactly what he deserved. She was barely speaking to him and had refused to attend today's planning session. Harry cringed at the thought. It seemed taking Mariah to lunch near Sara's shop was such a horrible thing to do, that Hermione was willing to side with I_Draco Malfoy__/I_ on the issue. Harry's head fell into his hands. He had to admit, in retrospect, it had been one of the stupidest ideas he'd had in many years. Even I_Ron__/I_ was mad at him. Mad enough to tell his mum I_and_ _/I_Ginny about it, both of whom had sent him a howler straight away.

Nikolae, it seemed, was the only person who believed he and Mariah were nothing more than friends. It was the only hope he had of smoothing things over. The only person who wasn't glaring at him just happened to be the only person whom Sara truly listened to, and whose advice she often took.

Harry sighed and swung his feet over the side of the bed, reaching out at once for his glasses and putting them on. Checking the time as he fastened his father's watch around his wrist, and then the locator just above it, Harry noted that he had exactly one hour before Mariah arrived at ten.

The marble tile was cold on his feet and he made a mental note to get another rug. He'd just add that to the list of a million other things he needed. Thankfully, Mariah had again volunteered to help him shop. After their lunch yesterday, neither had been in the mood to do much shopping. Hopefully, things would lighten up after a night of sleep.

In fact, he still couldn't make breakfast, or tea, so Harry settled on the couch with a jelly sandwich and a bottle of butterbeer. His eyes landed on the box of parchment, quills, and ink he'd picked up in Diagon Alley after dinner. He knew he should explain himself and apologize, but what would he say? Harry mulled it over as he ate his makeshift morning meal, and then carried his new supplies to the patio table in the kitchen/dining room.

_ISara, _

_I just wanted to apologize for what happened yesterday. I never intended for you to get the wrong idea. I guess, since you've been spending all of your spare time with Malfoy, I didn't think you'd mind if I brought a friend around. For what it's worth, it wasn't what it looked like.__ /I_

Harry crumpled the note and threw it in the trash. Why should I_he__/I_ apologize? She'd been doing the same thing, making him feel the same way, and Sara wasn't exactly I_begging__/I_ for forgiveness. In fact, she seemed to think spending the night with Draco Malfoy was a perfectly acceptable thing for her to do. Harry imagined Draco Malfoy putting his hands on Sara and felt ill. How could she do such a thing to him? One thing was for certain. Harry would not be made a fool. It was over, plain and simple. Sara had made this most difficult decision I_for__/I_ him.

It was obvious that she didn't care to work things out. In two days, she had not tried to contact him, and so why was he writing this angry, groveling letter? Asking her to understand? What I_was__/I_ there to understand? Why should he mope around for weeks or months alone and depressed, while I_she__/I_ went around all smiles and happiness?

It was settled then. When Mariah arrived, he wouldn't hesitate to take her around with him. There was nothing for him to be ashamed of, after all, and he refused to deny himself such enjoyable company for the sake of someone who had never bothered to show him the same kindness.

Deciding to change clothes and comb his wild morning hair, Harry was cut short by the doorbell. He'd have to answer it looking like he'd just rolled out of bed. He had no idea who it could be. Mariah wasn't due for half an hour, the office furniture was set to come around the same time, and Ron wasn't coming until evening. Harry hurried down the stairs.

Harry was thrilled to find it was the sign he'd ordered, done already! He couldn't wait to hang it and leaned out the door to gauge the risk of wandering out a few steps in his nightclothes. He decided against it, just as a familiar voice rang out on the street.

"Harry! Hey, Harry! You're up!"

Harry looked around and saw Mariah hurrying toward him with a parcel in her arms. She was all smiles at the sight of him and Harry brightened in return.

"You're early."

I was just passing by, actually, killing some time, and I saw you in the doorway. She glanced at his pajamas. "Would you prefer that I gave you a few more minutes? I can always run into the apothecary like I'd planned."

"Not at all! What a nice surprise. If you don't mind me looking this way for a few minutes, that is."

"You look I_at home."__ /I_

"I suppose I should; only I don't I_feel_ _/I_at home. In fact, I feel I_away__/I_ from home. It will take some getting used to."

"It won't take as long as you think. You haven't even settled in yet. Give it some time."

Harry followed her up the stairs. "I guess you're right. Maybe, when I get some curtains up and some normal furniture, it won't be so bad. Want a butterbeer?"

"Oh, I nearly forgot!" she handed him the parcel she held, "I got you a little housewarming present. I hope I wasn't too presumptuous."

"Nonsense." Harry smiled and sat down on the couch, untying the string, unwrapping the brown paper. He opened the box and smiled at once. "Excellent! How did you know I was I_dying__/I_ for a cup of tea?" Harry unpacked a fine, hand etched, silver tea service for six with care. "I was getting more than a little sick of butterbeer. Do you mind if we use it right away?"

Mariah smiled when she saw that he'd liked her gift. "I'm glad I got you something useful. Go get dressed. I'll make the tea."

"Thanks. I can't stand to look this way another minute."

Mariah was busy filling the pot and getting tea out of the cupboard, so Harry turned toward the flat's only bedroom, but only managed a few steps. The doorbell rang again.

"I'm beginning to think I'm going to be wearing these pajamas all day. It's probably the stuff for the office, a little early. I'll just be a minute."

Harry bounded down the stairs for the second time and swung the door open. He stopped dead when he saw who it was. "It's you!"

Sara held a large box in her arms and didn't smile. "Expecting someone else, were you?"

Harry said nothing, uncomfortable.

"You gave Nikolae a list of things you needed from the house. I thought I'd drop them off on the way to my shop," she made a point of noticing his frumpled, fresh-out-of-bed appearance, "Sorry to have I_disturbed__/I_ you."

Harry took the box and set it aside. "Sara, about yesterday…"

Mariah's voice echoed down the stairs, sending Harry's heart racing and thumping hard in his chest. "Harry? The tea's ready! How did you want yours?"

Harry swallowed hard as she again took in his pajamas and rumpled hair and he watched Sara's expression turn from shock, to unbearable emotional pain, to heart wrenching fury. Her feet fell back two steps, her eyes never left his.

Sara's voice was a whisper, choked by tears. I_"How could you do this to me?"__ /I_ She turned and hurried away.

"SaraI _wait!__ /I_ You don't understand!"

She turned as she walked, red streaking through her hair as the ground trembled and thunder raged through a blackening sky. She glared at him as passers-by cleared the street, and looked to her with fear and with awe. Wind raged through the narrow passage, signs clapped against the overhangs, and wares tumbled over the cobbles, though it didn't touch Sara. Her hair stirred about her as she looked at him and Sara shouted her words. I_"You have hurt me for the LAST TIME, Harry Potter!"__ /I_

"Sara! STOP! I_Listen__/I_ to me!"

Sara's answer was a quick flick of her hand and a white-blue flash of lighting struck the doorframe beside Harry's head. He was stunned, and when he looked again, Sara was gone. His eyes followed her storm through Diagon Alley and then out into London. Harry stood there on the step, with everyone staring at him, wishing she'd been kind enough to better her aim. His world came crashing down in that moment and the enormity of what he'd lost came to realization. Harry stepped inside and shut the door to the disapproving eyes outside. He slid down the wall until he found the floor and let his head fall into his hands.

* * *

Sylvia glanced around, the floor of the marble hearth hard beneath her knees and uncomfortable. She listened for a moment, and then turned back to the greenish face in the fire with haste. "We must be quick. Severus will be back any minute!"

"Speaking of Severus, has he agreed to the proposal?"

"Not yet. Give me time on that one. He'll come around. One way or another."

The face in the fire turned serious eyes to Sylvia. "As for the fog vials, we'll have enough as soon as we get what the Malfoy boy has. Have you spoken to him about the other item we discussed?"

"He's unwilling to part with it and wasn't shy with his refusal. It was rather strong-worded, to put it mildly."

"We'll see about that."

"What do you plan to do?"

"I'll speak to I_her__/I_ about it, but I have to say, Sylvia, her patience with him is running short. Lucius' son has proven to be quite a disappointment."

"If only dear Lucius was still around, we wouldn't have to deal with such I_incompetence."__ /I_ Sylvia's head snapped toward the door, and back just as quick. "It's Severus. I have to go. If she needs me to do anything, just send an owl."

"Just make sure Draco is at the dinner party."

"Consider it done."

The face disappeared and Sylvia got to her feet just in time for Snape to come through the entrance to the parlor. "Severus, what kept you?"

"Who were you talking to?"

"To myself, of course! I was the only one in the room, after all."

Snape said nothing for a long moment, and then turned to straighten some books on a shelf. "Funny thing about fog vials, ever since the smoke bomb has been improved, the need for them is almost non-existent. Smoke bombs are a sickle a dozen in any joke shop."

"And your point is?"

"You asked me to secure a great number of them once, and left me when I demanded to know why, and I swear I just heard mention of them again on my way in."

Sylvia laughed. "Always the inquisitive one, Severus. I told you during our lunch that I no longer needed them."

"With smoke bombs excluded, the only uses for fog vials, besides a few obscure medical purposes, are illegal orI _should__/I_ be. Aquadrite? Nitriculys? What were you planning to blow up? Or is it Noctris? Just so you know, they'll put you in Azkaban and throw away the key if they catch you with I_that._"_ /I_ Snape turned and faced her once again, his eyes accusing and distrustful. "Demanding to know the nature of your need is hardly I_prying_,_ /I_ Sylvia. It's quite justified, actually. I want to know what you're involved in."

Sylvia grew angry. "Do you want to go through this again? Do you want me to leave again?"

"No, I don't. I want I_an_ _answer._"_ /I_

"This is why I left to begin with! This very same conversation! You never STOP, Severus!"

"It would solve the problem if you would simply tell me. The fact that you won't, I'm afraid, I_raises a flag."__ /I_

Sylvia glared at him for a long moment, and then hurried out of the room, furious. Snape hesitated, and then followed.

* * *

Whom this particular doorstep belonged to was anyone's guess. It was simply the little alcove in the wall-like stretch of buildings where she'd decided to collapse, and Sara sat there, sobbing into her hands. The street had been busy, but now the city's inhabitants were taking cover and the sidewalks were empty. The earth trembled, the winds raged, and hail rained down on the roofs and the cars, breaking shop windows and striking the pavement like thousands of frozen golf balls. Sara took no notice, she could hear only the crash of thunder, and liken it to the resonance of her own agony. I_How could he??__ /I_ Had she not loved him enough?

"Hey. Hell of a storm you've got here. Do you do parties?"

Sara looked up, startled, and found Draco standing before her, shielding his head from the dangerous hail.

"Draco, he… I_he_…"_/I_ Sara burst into fresh tears.

"You don't have to tell me, Sara. I know he's done something awful to you, I_as usual_."_ /I_

"I hate him!"

Draco sat down beside her and pulled her head against his shoulder, his arms went around her and he kissed the top of her head. "If you hated him, you wouldn't be so upset."

The hail began to taper off as Sara buried her head in his shirt, sniffling. "I I_wondered__/I_ why he was acting so strange! He didn't even invite me in! He came to the door wearing the pajamas thatI _I bought him__/I_ and I_she__/I_ was there! It was obvious that she'd spent the night with him. I hate him, Draco. I really hate him."

"He's such a dog, Sara. He doesn't deserve you. I would never treat you that way."

"I know you wouldn't. You're not a selfish liar. You actually care about someone other than I_yourself!"__ /I_

"Actually, none of that is true. I I_am__/I_ selfish. I'm also a liar, just ask Christina. And I place myself above all others. Except you. I have I_always__/I_ set you apart. I think you know that. I would give you all that I owned, if only you asked, even if it left me penniless. I have never lied to you and I can't imagine I ever will. I care more about you than anyone or anything. I always will."

Sara's lip trembled as she smiled. "I love you, Draco Malfoy." Draco smiled in a way she had seen very few times and she took his hand.

"I think I've made my feelings clear," Draco grinned, "Even though you look like a mutant goat."

"I hear you were a very pretty ferret?"

"Of course I was. And you'll know how it feels to be a ferret if you don't stop crying I_this instant._"_ /I_

Sara straightened up and looked to him with watery eyes. "Come, Draco. There's something I have to do and I can't wait another second. I made the decision last night, and my resolve has only strengthened since then." Sara kissed his cheek and took his hand as they stood. "I could use a little moral support, if you don't mind tagging along."

"You know I don't. Where are we going?"

"I need to visit someone. It isn't far."

* * *

Christina moaned as she awoke and tried to open her eyes. She could feel the tubes in her mouth and nose, and nearly retched when the larger of the two was pulled from her throat by an unseen hand. A low female voice reached her ears, and was joined by another.

"She's awake!"

"Get her doctor!"

A moment later, amid the beeps and blips that seemed so familiar, the first voice addressed her from the bedside. "Christina? Can you hear me?"

Christina opened her eyes again and saw friendly eyes looking back, a caring smile on a sympathetic face.

"How do you feel?"

"Where am I? What's happened?"

"You were in an accident, dear. You're going to be fine. Just lie still."

Tears slipped down her bruised and swollen face as her confusion mounted. "It hurts! Everything I_hurts!"__ /I_

"I'll give you something to help with the pain, but the doctor will need to see you first. He's on his way. Don't worry, he won't be long."

"What kind of accident?"

"Your car hit a tree. We weren't sure if you were going to make it for awhile there, but look at you! On the road to recovery already!"

"I don't remember anything."

"The doctor might have something to say about it."

Christina couldn't move if she tried. Her leg was in traction, her torso was covered in bandages, and she had stitches all over the place. "Why can't I remember?"

"That's not unusual with sudden trauma. It might come back to you. We'll talk to the doctor."

"Who was with me? Is my mother alright?"

"You were alone."

The doctor breezed into the room, snapping rubber exam gloves over his long, bony hands. He was accompanied by the second, clipboard-toting nurse.

"Miss Safford! You've decided to join us, I see."

"Was I unconscious?"

"For a couple of days, yes. Be glad that you were. The worst has passed. Your injuries are healing nicely." Thoughts of the deep, internal injuries that had threatened her life crossed his mind, but he wouldn't speak of them. She'd returned from the wizard hospital without them and in stable condition. If only he had such remarkable abilities to heal!

The staff who had originally treated the then dying woman, himself excepted, had been reassigned to other patients and their memories modified. Christina's recovery was just a little too miraculous to be explained.

According to Smidgeon, the same had been done to Christina, which the doctor didn't quite understand. Smidgeon had also said that she might experience confusion and profound lapses in memory. "You were intoxicated at the time of your accident. You may not recall much."

"I don't drink."

The doctor ignored the comment and mumbled something to the nurse who had stayed in the room while they'd waited for him. She came forward with the same sympathetic eyes and injected something into the IV.

"That will help with the pain. You may feel a little dizzy."

Christina closed her eyes, welcoming the warm fuzziness of the drug, letting it numb her. She let the pain leave her mind and after a moment, she drifted off.

* * *

The Houndstooth Hotel was a wizarding landmark of sorts. Malfoys had roomed there, on occasion, for centuries. Ministers of Magic, past and present, held galas in their ballroom. Even the Beatles had been guests, invited by the sister of Ringo Starr, who was a witch. Rumor had it that John Lennon and Paul McCartney named the Magical Mystery Tour album after their stay at the Houndstooth, wrote several of the songs in their suite and dressed as wizards for some movie they made. Of course, their muggle fans were none the wiser.

Tonight there were neither celebrities nor Ministers present. There was, however, the last of the great line of Malfoys in attendance and Draco smiled as he walked through the doors.

The lobby was exactly the sort of welcome the wizarding elite should expect from a luxury establishment and, even among visiting royalty, mingling in the vast open space, Draco stood apart. Women smiled as they gave him the once over. Men gave approving nods in greeting as he approached the concierge.

"I'm looking for the Merlin Room."

"Are you with the Severus Snape party?"

"Yes, and hurry up. I'm I_late__/I_ and there's a certain young lady who should not be kept waiting."

"I'll have someone escort you right away, sir."

"Draco!"

Draco's jaw nearly hit the floor when he saw Sara rushing through the door. Her hair was swept up, a look he'd always liked on her, and she wore a flattering black dress with a beautiful cape brushed back over her shoulders. "Sara! You're late, too! I_Excellent!"_ _/I_

"Glad I'm not the only one. I was afraid I'd have to walk in alone." Sara took his hands and kissed his cheek in greeting. "You look fantastic!"

"Sara, I don't know how to put this into words, but you give a whole new meaning to the word I_stunning.__ /I_ You look… I_unbelievable."__ /I_

Sara blushed and smiled a little."Thank you, but I could say the same about you. In all honesty, you always look good, Draco, but I haven't seen you look I_this_ _/I_good since the Yule Ball."

He'd spent more than an hour in front of the mirror, grooming, but only smiled. "Even a I_monkey_ _/I_could put on a tux and a dress robe."

Sara straightened his immaculate tie. "Black has always been your best color."

"It's yours as well." Draco just stood there, staring at her, a slight smile playing in his eyes.

"May I ask what you're thinking? Or do I want to know?"

"I was just thinking that Potter's out of his bloody I_mind_. _/I_Come on, we don't want to keep them waiting," he grinned again, "Unless you'd care to duck into some random linen closet, that is." He offered his arm and she took it.

Sara laughed as they followed a bellhop through the posh hotel lobby. "I think the lifts might appeal more to your dangerous side. Too bad we aren't taking them."

"Don't worry Sara; there will be plenty of time after dinner. Don't be so impatient!"

Sara rolled her eyes at him. "You're something else, you know that?"

"I'll take that as a compliment."

The bellhop opened a door for them. Draco tipped him two galleons and led Sara through it. The room was dim, lit by sconce and candle chandelier. The moon and star pattern, which was synonymous with Merlin, accented I_everything._ _/I_The walls were covered in deep Merlin blue fabric and a few of his artifacts adorned the walls, hung in framed, glass shadowboxes. It was a magical room, filled with people Draco knew, but whom Sara had never met. She spoke to his mind as they greeted Snape, who seemed a little too relieved to see them, and took their seats.

I_Draco, who the hell are all these people?_

_Let's just say they were close acquaintances of my father's._

_But all the Death Eaters are in Azkaban!_

_Come on, Sara! You can't actually believe that every partisan of the Dark Lord put on a mask that day, do you? _

_It's what we've believed all this time._

_Those were his idiot minions. These are the craftier ones. They're up to something, and _she's_ their ringleader._

_Sylvia? You must be mistaken. Severus would never associate with that sort, regardless of his past._

_I don't know what planet you're on, or which Severus you're talking about, but I think it's time you took off your _naïve_ glasses and got a little dose of reality. _

_Maybe there's some truth to what you're saying, Draco. As a diviner, I've had a sense of foreboding ever since we walked through the door. Be on your guard._

_I've got a sense of the _creeps!_ Let's get the hell out of here._

_But we can't! Draco, look at Severus. He's as uncomfortable as we are.__ /I_

Draco looked at Snape and saw what Sara saw. Snape was on edge, reproachful, and talking to no one. Both noticed the angry, distrustful glance he gave Sylvia when her back was turned.

I_Draco, I won't leave him. He doesn't want to be here._

_I'm not eating anything._

_The hotel won't poison us, I think we're safe there, but don't take your eyes off your plate or your drink._

_Stay close to me, Sara. Don't leave my side.__ /I_

Sara smirked. I_Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you._

_Oh, you're so funny I can hardly stand it. _

_I do try. Now smile and get us some champagne. We don't want them to know we suspect something's amiss.__ /I_

* * *

Ron gave his friend a sympathetic smile. "Cheer up, Harry. She'll come around. You'll see."

Harry sighed. "It was the look on her face when she realized Mariah was here that upsets me. I just wanted some time away, I wanted her to know how much Malfoy bothers me, but I never wanted to make her feel the way I made her feel today. And there I was in my I_pajamas_ _/I_of all things. I can only imagine what it looked like."

"Maybe Hermione can talk to her. You know, try to explain what happened. I'd do it myself, but she'd think you put me up to it."

"I don't want our friends in the middle of it." Harry fell onto the couch and let his head fall into his hands, tangling his fingers in his hair as he stared at the floor. "She's still my wife. I'll talk to her. I just hope she doesn't throw lightning at me again."

"I wish I_I_ _/I_could throw lightning. If I could, I'd throw it at Malfoy. No matter what he does, it always means trouble. I wish he'd stay away from Sara."

"You and me both! Of course, I'd pretty much made my decision to leave before I found out she'd slept at his house, but when it came time to walk out the door, the knowledge certainly got my idle feet to move."

"Do you really think something happened? I mean, you've thought that before, we all have, actually, and we were wrong. She has the wrong idea about Mariah. Maybe you got the wrong idea, too?"

"I don't know, Ron. All that's clear is that it wasn't working out for us, we were both miserable, and she was always crying over I_nothing_. _/I_We even started fighting, which is something we've never really done. When I saw her with Draco and saw how happy she was, something told me there was more to it than friends," Harry sighed again, "It doesn't matter anymore. It's gone too far. She hates me, and I'm not exactly thrilled with her, either."

"It's just that, I can't understand why Draco would punch you, unless they I_were_ _/I_just friends. I mean, if she was cheating on you with him, why would they care if you had lunch with a girl? They'd think it was righteous vindication. He I_wouldn't_ _/I_have punched you, Harry. What you're saying doesn't make any sense."

"There's nothing I can do about it now. She'll never talk to me again after today."

"Well, you have to I_try_,_ /I_ Harry! You know better than to trust Lucius Malfoy and that rotten old house elf is no better."

"I I_don't know__/I_ what to think or who to believe! I don't know if I want to stay with Sara, but I'm quite sure I don't want her to hate me. I guess I could go to the house after we decide what to do about Malfoy and the fog vials. See if she hasn't changed the wards. One thing's for certain, if I don't come back, you'll find me dead on the doorstep."

"Well, speaking of Malfoy, it was Hermione's idea, of course, but I was able to secure a few of these monitoring devices from work. We don't use these anymore; they got the new ones that we can control from the office. These are fixed in place, but I think they'll serve our purpose if we can get that worthless house elf to put them in the right spots."

"Brilliant! Can't we get in trouble for this?"

I_"Loads."__ /I_

"Excellent. We should draw up a floor plan from what I remember of the layout. I've only been there once, so it won't be much to go on, but he's up to something and I'm determined to figure out what."

"I could only get eight devices. We'll have to place them carefully. The thing is, Hermione and I thought we should only use four at Malfoy Manor. One in the potions lab, Draco's bedroom, Lucius' study, and the main lobby."

"What about the other four?"

"You're not going to like this, Harry."

"Try me."

"One in the parlor of Malfoy's other house, since he doesn't seem to go there much. And, um… one in Sara's shop. The other two in your house."

Harry smiled inwardly. The thought of spying on Sara, and having a very good reason to do it, was a wonderful thought. After all, they wouldn't be spying on Sara at all, they'd be spying on Draco, but it would all come to the same end. "The problem lies in Sara's shop. You and Hermione will have to go visit her there and place the device yourselves. She'll never let me in. I can bug my own house next time she leaves, I can also bug Christina's house, and Kreacher can place the devices in Malfoy Manor."

"Sounds good, mate. I don't like doing this to Sara, but we can't ignore the company she keeps."

Harry sighed. "Very true. It's unavoidable, I'm afraid. Oh, I forgot to mention, I have Colin Creevey on the payroll. He's willing to sneak around and photograph what Malfoy does in Diagon Alley."

"Brilliant, Harry!"

"He's not a regular member of our team; there will still be only three desks downstairs, so I guess we're contracting him as needed. He was thrilled to death when he got my owl. Came over straight away and was so excited I had to give him I_five_ _/I_butterbeers to calm him down."

"Speaking of owls, there's one at the window. You'd better let it in."

"It's Hedwig!" Harry hurried to admit his owl, lifting the window with his wand. She landed on his leg and dropped a thick envelope in his lap. The owl pushed her head against his arm. Harry pet her and softened his tone. "Don't sound so sad, girl. How bad can the news be?"

"Really! I don't think your day could get any worse, mate."

Harry unfolded the many documents, and read only the heading. His eyes betrayed one of the worst moments of his life. His voice was choked with emotion. "It just got aI _lot__/I_worse." Harry rose from the couch without another word and walked away with his eyes on the floor.

"Harry, where are you going?" The bedroom door slammed shut and Ron was bewildered. He picked up the letter and finally understood. "Decree of I_Divorce!_ _/I_No, Sara, you don't understand!" Ron slumped in his seat, wishing Hermione were around. She would know what to do about this, for certain. As it was, he didn't have a I_clue_. _/I_

When Harry didn't come out after a half hour, Ron took one of the devices, hid it in his pocket, and let himself out.

* * *

Snape gave them a nervous smile. "Sara, Draco, you're late! We didn't think you were coming. Sylvia's been asking if you'd sent an owl for half an hour!"

Draco looked at Snape as though he were a bit daft. "We were only ten minutes late, Professor."

Sara's hand tightened on Draco's arm. "We're sorry to have kept you and your other I_guests_ _/I_waiting, Severus."

"It's quite alright. You look splendid, Sara. YouI _both__/I_ do, actually. I don't think I've ever seen two people so I_well matched.__ /I_ It pleases me to see you arrived together. It's about time the two of you were on a date."

Sara rolled her eyes and sighed.

Draco continued to give Snape the same confused look. "Sir, we met in the lobby."

Sylvia appeared at Snape's elbow with her usual slippery greeting. "So nice to see you could make it. You look every bit like your father, Draco." Sylvia smiled as Draco held his annoyance in check. "Sara, would you mind if I borrowed Draco for a moment? We have a little business to discuss."

Draco scoffed. "No we don't."

"Actually, Draco and I were just going to –"

"We'll just be a minute." Sylvia grabbed Draco's arm hard and pulled him over toward the door.

Sara looked to Snape with accusation in her eyes. She kept her voice low. 'Severus, what's all this about? Why are we in a room full of Death Eaters and what business does she think she has with him? Something doesn't feel right and I want to know how you came to be in the middle of it."

"They aren't I_Death Eaters_, _/I_Sara. Sylvia invited them. They're old friends of hers. I've made a few shady friends in my day as well, so don't go jumping to conclusions. It doesn't mean, or prove, anything. As for Draco, Sylvia says that Lucius once took something of hers and she wanted to see if Draco could take a look around the manor for it. Calm down, Sara. I don't care for these people any more than you do. Let's just ignore them and enjoy the evening."

Sara glanced toward where Sylvia had stood with Draco only a moment before. They were gone, no longer in the room, and Sara felt panic try to seep under her skin. She glanced at Snape, and then went to find her friend.

"Sara? They'll be right back! Obviously, their discussion required I_privacy."__ /I_

Sara returned to stand before him. "Was it your job to avert my attention while she lured him away from me? Are you really so blind you can't see that she's up to something?" Sara didn't wait for a reply, simply walked out of the room and into the hall. She opened her mouth to call his name and then closed it again. Her auror sense told her to be as quiet as possible.

Sara crept along the corridor, close to the wall, until she came to a left turn and peeked around the corner. She could hear Sylvia's voice, whispering with three other people in an open room just down the hall. Getting so close was dangerous, and she could still only make out a few words here and there. Sara risked a glance into the room and held her breath when she realized Draco was not among them. There was one recognizable face, however, and Sara nearly panicked at the sight of one of the wizarding world's most notorious Death Eaters; Bellatrix Lestrange.

Sara strained to hear over the pounding of her heart, but the voices were so low, and the pounding so loud, that she wasn't getting much of the conversation. All she'd discerned, so far, was that Draco had something they needed, and he was getting it for them. She heard several mentions of fog vials, and how what he was bringing would fill their needs, though Sara was unfamiliar with such vials. Sara wondered how they'd managed to get Draco to do I_anything at all__/I_ for them, but another quick glance afforded her a bit more detail and Sara's fear grew. Every one of the four inside, including Sylvia, had a wand in hand.

Minutes ticked off as Sara waited, pressed up against the wall outside the room, awaiting Draco's return. When she finally heard the minute I_pop__/I_ of a port key, and saw the flash of their wands, she breathed relief. Sara had no time to think. She grabbed the doorframe, swung herself inside, and leveled her best I_patrificus totalis._ _/I_Another flick of her hand unfroze Draco, who dropped something, wrapped in a cloth that seemed familiar to Sara. There was no time to go back for it, as the strongest person in the room broke through the spell and countered Sara's curse. Bellatrix bellowed her anger and leveled her wand on Sara.

As Sara pulled Draco along, a strong dueling blast caught him in the side and he tumbled out into the main corridor. The heavy sack he carried flew from his hand and landed against a pair of black dress shoes. Snape plucked it from the floor and extended his wand. He stepped between Sara, Draco, and their pursuers.

Sylvia smoothed her dress and her long, shiny, black hair. "Severus! What are you thinking, pointing your wand at me? I was merely trying to explain to Sara –"

Sara narrowed her eyes. "Can it, Sylvia. He isn't stupid."

Snape noticed her companions and his voice took on a tone of frightened incredulity. "Bellatrix! Isn't Azkaban looking for you?"

Snape stepped forward as Sara helped Draco to his feet. "What do you want with Draco?"

Sylvia answered for her. "We were just talking! For Merlin's sake, Severus, Bellatrix is his mother's sister!"

Snape turned to Draco. "Just talking? Is this the truth?"

"I don't know, to be honest. I mean, we were only gone less than a minute. All I remember is stepping inside the room; I saw a flash of light, and Aunt Bella's face. The next moment, Sara was pulling me down the hall."

Sara stepped forward with vicious eyes. "They're lying, Severus. I was outside the door for nearly ten minutes, and Draco was I_gone.__ /I_ I heard them talking and they'd sent him somewhere to get some sort of vials and another item as well. As soon as he returned they lifted a curse and so I grabbed him and ran."

Bellatrix sneered at Sara. "Such a I_jealous__/I_ little girl you are. How dare you suggest that I cursed my own nephew!"

Snape took another step closer to Sylvia's group pointing his wand at Bellatrix. "The I_Imperious Curse_,_ /I_ most likely. Where is the other item?"

Sara remembered the thick, solid thud as it hit the floor, wrapped in familiar fabric. "Draco dropped it when I grabbed him."

"We have no other item. I don't know what you're talking about."

Draco swallowed hard. "Professor. I have no memory of any of this."

The man with Bellatrix pushed to the front of the group. "Enough of this! I_Avada Kedav—"__/I_

Sara threw out a hand and cut him off with a blast of lightning. The man flew off his feet and fell to the floor as thin, bluish smoke curled around the hole in his shirt.

Sylvia hurried to Snape's side and hid behind his shoulder. She leveled her wand on Bellatrix and the woman who stood beside her. "Severus, they I_threatened__/I_ me. They were waiting when I arrived to set up for the party and said they'd kill us both if Draco didn't get them what they wanted."

The other Death Eaters had come out of the Merlin Room and formed a half-circle around Sara, Draco, Snape, and Sylvia with wands drawn.

Sylvia appeared afraid as she looked to Snape with wide eyes. "They've been threatening me for a long time now. That's why I couldn't tell you why I needed the fog vials. I don't know what they want with them. I don't even know what they're used for!"

The woman with Bellatrix rose from where she'd knelt beside the man Sara had struck. "He's I_dead!__ /I_That I_obnoxious__/I_ little witch killed Harlan!"

As if that was the cue they'd been waiting for, the Death Eaters, led by Bellatrix, attacked the smaller group. The Orb of Arassel erupted with its pinkish, protective glow and the curses fell to nothing. Draco was quick to grab Snape's sleeve and wrapped his other arm around Sara. Sensing what Draco was about to do, Snape grabbed Sylvia's hand.

Sylvia looked around. "Where are we?"

Draco sighed and drew Sara into a hug, relived to be away from danger. He whispered only to her. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, don't worry about me. You were hit."

"I'm alright, Sara." Draco smiled and turned back to the others. "We're in Hollywood, California. I was planning to bring Sara here after our dinner. I'd heard about some big award party tonight. I thought we could crash it."

Sylvia addressed him again, holding tight to Snape's hand. "How are we supposed to get out of here? That port key will take us right back to the hotel! They're sure to wait for us."

"Maybe we should go to the party or get a room somewhere. They'll give up after awhile when it doesn't seem we're coming back."

Sara opened her evening bag and pulled out the port key to her house. "Not necessary, Draco. As fun as that party sounds, right now, I just want to get out of here, and get away from I_her.__ /I_Sylvia has some explaining to do. We should let Severus deal with it, because ifI _I_ _/I_deal with it, onlyI _three_ _/I_of us will be leaving." Sara glared at Sylvia. "I trusted you! But now I know that you're a liar. I heard the whole thing, you know. I was right outside the door while you were plotting with your littleI _friends_._ /I_ If you come near Draco again, I_you'll deal with me."__ /I_

Sylvia smirked and winked at Sara. Snape didn't see it, but Draco did.

"I hope Snape has you I_arrested._ _/I_How dare you use an Unforgivable Curse on me?!"

Sara linked arms with Draco and Snape. "I'd like to leave the traitor here, but as my beloved Uncle Albus always said, relocating the problem doesn't solve anything."

Draco laughed. "Unless it's relocated to Azkaban!"

Snape's voice was quiet and defeated as he looked on his two favorite young people. "As interesting as this filthy street corner is, I would very much like to go home now. I'm sorry I put the two of you in danger. Though I must ask you, don't blame Sylvia just yet. We don't yet know what the truth is. Let me sort it out."

Sara touched the key and led them all from the cottage, along the walk, and into the main lobby. She unlocked a drawer and gave Snape the port key she kept that went to his house. She held his eyes and didn't smile. "Be strong, Severus. If you need help or even advice…"

"Thank you. Good night Sara, Draco." With that, they were gone.

Draco wrapped his arms around her shoulders and sighed. "He's going to cave like an avalanche on Mount Kilimanjaro."

Sara sighed and laid a hand over his comforting arm. "I know. We'll have to keep a close watch on her. What did she ask you for?"

"I don't remember. I sort of recall getting a letter from her earlier in the year, but I can't tell you what it was concerning. It's as if that part has been erased."

"Perhaps it was. I should have killed her while I had the chance. It was the look on his face, Draco, I couldn't hurt the woman he loves."

"Sara? I just want to tell you, you're one badass witch. Thanks for looking out for me."

"I said I would. I always keep my promises."

Draco smiled and released her. "Let me take you to dinner. We still haven't eaten and I refuse to let this night go to waste. I simply I_must__/I_ be seen with you, by someone other than Death Eaters. I'll be the envy of all of England."

"Boring old London again? How about New Orleans? Got a port key for the French Quarter?"

"Absolutely."

"Wonderful. Let me check in with Nikolae before we go. He left me a note this morning and I really shouldn't leave without seeing him. Why don't you light the fire? Autumn has crept into the night so close to the channel, and the fog is rolling in."

Draco waved his wand with an absent mind and the fire jumped alight. He stared at her as a slight smile crossed her face. She was waiting, it seemed, and Draco always knew when he'd been afforded the rarest of opportunities. He kissed her, gentle, and with feeling. It lingered a long moment, and then he backed away. "Hurry up. I'm starving."

* * *

Harry didn't feel like moving. Never in a million years had he thought it would come to I_this_._ /I_ Sara, the person he'd loved so completely, who he'd waited an eternity to call his wife, had filed for divorce. The very thought of the word filled him with leaden anxiety. It resonated through his mind like the death of a beloved friend. I_Divorce._ _/I_Such an ugly word. I_Final.__ /I_ Unyielding. Unforgiving. LikeI _cancer.__ /I_He'd once thought the ring she'd returned to him had been the greatest blow he'd ever been dealt, but Harry realized now that he'd been wrong. Nothing compared to I_divorce._ _/I_

Had living with him been I_that__/I_ bad? Harry knew he'd become distant over the years, but didn't Sara understand? She I_wouldn't__/I_ understand! In fact, Sara had mastered the art of misunderstanding. And now here they were, living apart, disgusted with each other, on the brink of falling apart, and blaming each other for all of it.

Harry knew he had to talk to Sara. He was sorry now that he'd ever left. The truth was, he'd thought leaving Sara was what would make him happy. To have her waiting in the wings for him to deal with the darkness he often felt, the restlessness he carried inside him. It was a hard lesson to learn, that he'd taken her for granted, and lost her through ignorance. How often had he stopped thinking about himself long enough to consider how she was feeling? How he was I_making__/I_ her feel? He'd watched with an uncaring eye as Sara suffered for years, careful with her every word, gentle with her approach. Harry buried his head in the pillow, trying not to do the most unmanly of things.

Harry forced himself from the bed in the dark. He had no idea how long he'd lain there, or how many hours had passed since Ron had let himself out. He knew only the silence of the room, and the chaos of his revelations. Harry had rarely felt as alone as he did now, crossing the empty expanse of his tiny flat, no longer the symbol of excitement and personal freedom, but of his own stupidity.

Harry's eyes fell on the sack of monitoring devices Ron had left. The locator told him Sara was out, but he went through the door without the two that were meant for his house. At the moment, bugging Sara's bedroom felt like the greatest of betrayals and he couldn't deal with the idea. Not now. Maybe that would change after he talked to her. Harry had a feeling that it wouldn't go well.

Sara hadn't changed the wards after all, and Harry fumbled through the darkness, letting familiarity guide him through the lobby, ignoring the lights. Her room was his destination and he was careful not to disturb anything.

The covers were mussed on both sides of the bed, as though two people had slept here. Both pillows were sunken and rumpled in the center, and a bottle of ginger ale sat empty on I_his__/I_ nightstand. Harry's heart sank with the knowledge that he'd only been gone for two nights, yet he'd already been replaced. His desire to win back what was his swelled within him, but the situation seemed hopeless. He'd pushed Sara too far.

Harry found himself in the courtyard, wandering among the purple flowers and thinking of the hope he'd had for the future when he'd planted them. So much had changed since then, but when had it happened? When had that overwhelming feeling of love he'd had for her faded? Frodo held all of the answers, on a chain around his neck, and Harry sat on the bench to consider the meaning of this statue one last time.

Harry wasn't sure how long he'd sat there, listening to the water flow from the base of the enormous statue of Frodo Baggins, and into the pool below. He could have sat there all night, he thought, in the warmth of one of the last nights of summer, wallowing in regret, but the lights went on in the front of the house. Sara was home now, and Harry took a moment to gather his courage before he faced her.

Making his way back through the lobby, where a fire now crackled and tossed flickering shadows on the floor, Harry's heart raced. He thought it odd that, after all the danger he'd faced in his life, it was his wife who scared him the most.

A loathsome blond head greeted him and Harry's anger spiked when it was Draco he found, standing before the fire, looking better than Harry had ever seen him look. Draco's long, white hair flowed over his shoulders. His tuxedo was tailored for a perfect fit, and the dress robe he wore over it had to be the finest dress robe in all of England. Harry felt the old jealousy creep in to consume him and he wondered how he'd managed to keep Sara as long as he had with such impeccable competition.

Draco gave him a smug grin and clasped his hands. "Evening, Potter. What are I_you__/I_ doing here? Nice shiner."

Harry's anger flared at the mention of his black eye. To hide the emotion he felt, Harry poured himself a glass of Finnegan's Swill and sipped it. His voice offered no humor and begged none in return. He didn't smile. I_"Where's Sara?"__ /I_

"Talking to Nikolae."

"And why areI _you__/I_ here, Malfoy? I do hope you were just leaving."

"Actually, we were planning to go out for drinks. The party ended a little early."

"Your presence here is no longer necessary. If Sara wants to go for a drink, she can go with I_me.__ /I_ You will see yourself out at once."

Draco made no effort to move from his place. He chuckled and ran an arrogant hand through his hair. "I'm afraid, Potter, that I'm not the one who has worn out my welcome. Besides, you look like a I_slob__/I_ and I'd wager my broom that you've never seen Sara look as good as she does tonight. Even if you managed to leave the house with her, you'd look like a fool beside her. I think she'd rather go with me. I compliment her in ways you never could."

"GET OUT!"

Draco smiled again. "And why should I take orders from you? From what I understand, you no longer live here."

"This is I_still__/I_ my house, Malfoy! And that isI _still__/I_MY WIFE!"

"Correction, Potter. This I_was__/I_ your house. And that I_was__/I_ your wife. You threw them away." Draco clasped his hands easy in front once more and smiled just a bit as he leveled his eyes on Harry. "However, there is one promise I can make you. I'll take good care of both."

Harry held his gaze, intense and alive with fury. "I could have left you to die after the war, but I didn't. You once handed me your wand and asked me to kill you and I refused. At that time, you looked at me with such I_conviction__/I_ that I had no choice but to believe you. Do you remember what you said to me?"

Draco's voice went quiet, heavy with guilt and humbled. "Of course I remember it."

"You said that if I didn't kill you, I'd regret it. I_How right you were."__ /I_ Harry held his eyes in silence, and then raised his glass. "Here's to what we I_used__/I_ to be, Malfoy." Harry threw his glass to the floor where it smashed in a liquid spray of broken shards, wishing somehow, the noise might satisfy the anger that raged inside him. His quick strides echoed through the lobby, his heavy footfalls thudding hard across the expanse as Harry hurried to the door. That anger was getting the best of him. He had to leave before he did something unspeakable.

"Potter?"

Harry turned, holding tight to a thread of control.

"Leave the key."

Harry drew his wand and just stood there, failing to point it at anything, struggling with his desire for vengeance and his need to walk away. Finally, he leveled it on Malfoy, who swallowed hard. Harry's heart ached with regret, defeated, as Sara came through the arch and stood in front of Draco.

"That isn't fair." She wandered forward, toward Harry, whose wand arm dropped to his side, his face a testament to misery, and to remorse. "This is your house, Harry. You built it, after all." Sara placed her key in his hand and closed his fingers around it. "It's only right that you have it."

"I built it for I_you.__ /I_ForI _us.__ /I_This is I_our_ _/I_house, Sara. Send him away."

Sorrow laced her expression as Sara lowered her voice, so that Draco couldn't hear her words. "I I_will_ _/I_send him away, but I'm leaving, too." She stepped in and pressed a hand to the amoridon he still wore around his neck, where it radiated warmth beneath her palm. "Harry, I will I_always__/I_ love you, but this last, bittersweet chapter in our little tragic-heart romance is over," she sighed, "Once upon a time, I gave you my heart and you gave it back in pieces. I'm asking you. Let me put it together again. Sign the papers."

Harry took the hand she held against his chest and turned it so she was looking at her own palm. He traced her love line. "Remember, Sara. Mine is the same."

"I misread it."

Harry looked at her for a long moment, wondering how it could be true, wanting to scream at her, shake her, tell her how I_wrong_ _/I_she was. He only stood there.

"Sign the papers, Harry. Let it be over."

Harry turned and walked to the door, upending a small table with a casual flick of his wrist. He turned at the threshold and took a good, long look at his wife. The key she'd given him was tossed from his hand. "LikeI_ hell__/I_I will."

* * *

162


	10. Chapter 10: Kiss Me

The Girl in the Tower 2: Seasons of Discontent Ch 10: Kiss Me

**bPart Two: Be Here Now**

_**C**__**ha**__**p**__**ter 10: Kiss Me/b**_

iAnd it all comes down to you  
Well you know that it does  
Lightning strikes, maybe once, maybe twice  
Ah and it lights up the night  
And you see your gypsy  
You see your gypsy

~ Fleetwood Mac (Stevie Nicks)/I

Draco smiled as he stood on Sara's step, waiting while she maneuvered the key in the lock. "Morning, Sunshine. I got you something. I meant to give it to you before, but life got in the way."

Sara swung the door open and smiled as she held it for him. Her smile faded when she noticed his pale face, darkened eyes, clammy brow, and the heavy jumper he wore, which was I_much_/I too warm for the nice, cool, September morning. She knew he was sick again and decided to send more house elves to clean his mansion. Obviously, something there was affecting him in a bad way.

"I can't wait to see what it is! Come in. Sit down, Draco; I'll get you some tea."

"Tea sounds great. Something hot." He raised his voice so she could still hear him in the kitchen. "I think I overdid it last night, but I had the I_best_/I time. At least you didn't fall off another table."

"No, but I I_did_/I lose a pair of I_very_/I expensive designer shoes."

"I'll buy you another pair. We'll go to Milan later. No, tomorrow." Draco took off his shoes and lay down on the couch.

Sara came back with the tea on a try and set it on the low table before the couch. "Draco, you're shivering." She took a throw from the arm and covered him with it, then sat on the floor beside him. "Why are you always sick?"

"It's just allergies. I'll be ok. Open your present."

Sara did and laughed when she saw the sign he'd had made for her shop. Something she'd been too busy to do all week, and the only thing keeping her from opening to the public. "It says SaraI_ Lemke."_ /I

"If you tap it with your wand, or in your case, Voldemort's wand, it will change to your current name, if that's what you prefer. I could do it for you if you want, but I was hoping you'd leave I_Potter_ /Iout of it."

"You know me too well. I like it just the way it is. Besides, that will be my name again soon enough. Unless he's as determined to give me a hard time as he was last night."

"You could have a different name altogether, you know. One I'm I_quite_ /Ifamiliar with."

"I know, but I_Kevin Lemke_ /Isounds so funny. I don't think I could get used to it."

Draco laughed aloud and shivered, pulling the blanket up around his neck. "You're a jackass."

"I've been called that before."

I_"By who?_ /II'll curse them to hell for calling you names."

"By you."

"Oh, well, I'm allowed. I'm a jackass too, and so I have the right."

Sara smiled her amusement and looked the sign over once more.

~ Sara Lemke ~

**BMASTER DIVINER/B**

_I Gypsy Descendant of Albus Dumbledore_/I

Palm Readings

Tarot

Dream Interpretation

Intuitive Disclosure

Aura Analysis

Keeper of the Orb of Arassel

_ICertified Authentic by England and Romania_/I

"Do you like it?"

"II _love_/I it! Thank you, Draco. I would never have written these things about myself, yet they're I_exactly_ /Iwhat will draw people in. It's beyond perfect."

Draco smiled. "I'm glad you like it."

"Since I was planning to open today, I'm going to hang it right now. This should send Hawthorn right over the edge, but I'm hanging it anyway."

"Did you see the sign you destroyed was all patched together? She re-hung the stupid thing. It's older than dirt, anyway, all peeling and faded. Now it's charred and held together by bad karma."

"Would you stop? I felt terrible about that, just so you know. It clearly means a lot to her, that sign. She was nearly in tears when she saw it in pieces. I don't need to be reminded of it."

"Let me hang it for you."

"I can manage just fine. You'll stay put until I can run over to the apothecary and get you some potions for that fever. Just drink your tea and lie still. I won't be long."

"Put some music on?"

Sara smiled. "I've got just the thing."

Soon, the sounds of Sara's own voice, singing over a smooth jazz band filled the room and Draco smiled. "You sang loud enough for someone to record you?"

"I've come out of my shell a little in the past few years. I wanted to practice singing in public, so I went to Austria and played in a little dinner club. The sort of place my mother used to play. I just pretended I was singing along with her and I got through it just fine. Of course, I had my eyes closed the whole time, but it was a great experience."

"Hurry back, Sara. I want that potion. I have an idea."

* * *

Harry tilted his head as he stood in the street, considering. "I don't know, Ron. It just doesn't look the way I thought it would."

"Well what did you expect, mate? All it says is 'Auror Services' and there'sI _nothing_ /Iexciting about that. You'd think you would have come up with something a little more clever than I_auror services."_ /I

"What else would I call it? It's an auror service, after all."

"Let's think on it. We can always have another sign made."

"I don't want my name in it."

"No kidding, Harry. We'd have a bunch of gawkers hanging around all the time."

"What about something that stands for all three of us? Like the Ka-tet did?"

Ron opened his mouth to say that the Ka-tet included Sara, but then thought better of it. "What about something simple, but meaningful, like I_Tri-wizard Auror Services._ /I There are three of us, and you were the Hogwarts champion with Cedric. I think he would have liked that, actually. But it's your place, Harry. Hermione and I are your helpers, really."

"Nonsense. I wouldn't want to do this without the two of you. If you left, I'd close the shop. I like it. That's our new name then. Tri-wizard Auror Services. I'll send for a new sign."

"Excellent!"

"And I have a great idea for a logo as well."

"What's a logo?"

"A little picture to put on the sign and on correspondence. Just an arrangement of our symbols."

"Like a crest! Sounds good. Now, what are we supposed to do about those empty filing cabinets? The office is all set up; we just don't have any cases!"

"We have one file to make already, and the name on it is I_Draco Malfoy._ /II'll get all this stuff started. The locator says Sara's at work, so why don't you head over to plant that device?"

"You sound rather bitter this morning. How'd it go last night?"

"It didn't go I_at all._ /IMalfoy was there and the two of them were dressed to kill, said they'd just come from some party and were going out on the town. She tried to give me the house. She said she was leaving and asked me to sign the papers. Malfoy, of course, was smug and out of line. I had to leave before I wound up in Azkaban."

"Draco always gets what he wants, doesn't he? One way or another. I hate to say this, but you really screwed up, mate."

"I know. I_Believe me,_ /I I know. I don't blame her really, I've been rotten to her for a long time, and then I moved out and never discussed it with her. SaraI _never_/I would have done that to me. I wasn't fair to her, Ron. I guess Hermione was right. I got I_exactly_ /Iwhat I deserved."

"She did it to you once. She did exactly what you did, note and all."

"Yes, but for entirely different reasons. I_Good_ /Ireasons, one of which being that she thought she was saving my life. What Sara did was not selfish. It took me a long time to realize that. What she did was I_selfless._ /I Plus, that happened when she was a teenager. Not after years of marriage."

"Guess I never thought about it that way."

"When she left she was afraid of her own shadow. Everyone was always worried about her. She couldn't really be left alone. When Voldemort showed, she'd cower from him. Snape told me she even hid in a closet once, and I_screamed_ /Iuntil someone came to help her.

"She came back from Romania a force to be reckoned with, independent and in full control of her powers. I tell you, Ron; only a I_fool_ /Iwould mess with Sara. I certainly wouldn't. As hard as it was for me, I'm glad she went. I don't hold it against her."

"Don't look now, but your morning's about to get wrecked, Harry."

Harry turned and sneered when he saw who was coming toward them. "What do _you_ want, Malfoy? I think I showed uncommon restraint last night. Don't push me."

"Actually, Potter, I wanted to talk to you," he glanced at Ron, annoyed, I_"Alone."_ /I

Ron pushed in front of Harry. "You've got a lot of nerve! I_Moving in on his wife_/I the second they have a hard time, and now showing up here! He doesn't want to talk to the likes of you, Malfoy, and if you don't stay away from Sara, you'll wish you had!" Ron drew his wand, but Draco only stood there with his hands clasped.

"Potter? I'm here in good faith. Like I said, we need to talk, and if you don't get this overgrown sewer rat away from me, I'll be forced to remove him myself."

Harry was intrigued. As much as he hated Malfoy, his curiousity was piqued. His hand moved to lower Ron's wand as passers-by watched the exchange, hoping for a duel between well-known rivals. They moved on when Ron stowed his wand.

"You've got three minutes, maybe less."

* * *

Christina opened her eyes in the bright light of morning, filtering in through the clean, white hospital blinds and her doctor smiled as he leaned over her bed. "You won't need to sleep for a I_month_ /Iby the time you're discharged."

Christina yawned. "It seems to be all I want to do. Someone woke me up last night and asked if I wanted a sleeping pill."

The doctor laughed as he took a seat and examined a large cut on her side. "We tend to do silly things like that. I'm sure someone, somewhere, sees the logic in it."

"How long have I been here?"

"Nearly a week. You've got four or five more ahead of you, unless your leg heals at superhuman speed, that is."

Christina sighed and lay back on the pillows, staring up at the ceiling as he examined her. "Hasn't anyone come to visit me? There are no flowers by my bed, no cards. Does my mother even know that I'm here?"

"Miss Safford, I'm terribly sorry, but I think your memory lapse… Your mother passed away three years ago. Cirrhosis. I'm sorry."

Christina felt tears sting her eyes, her confusion mounting. "Why don't I remember any of this? My I_mother!_" /I

"I spoke to a man who claimed to have been her boyfriend. He said you ran away and that they hadn't seen nor heard from you in nearly ten years."

"I missed her funeral?"

"According to the man I spoke to."

"Henry."

"That was his name, yes."

"I loved my mother. Thank you, Doctor."

"Your memory loss is profound, Christina. Tell me what you remember from the past ten years. Where do you live?"

"London. On top of a pizza shop. I went to become an actress on the stage, but I only got a small part in a bad play, and so I worked in a grocery for a while. I was kicked out of my flat, if that's what you want to call it, when I couldn't make rent and I had nowhere else to go. I'm homeless."

"Doubtful. Look at your fingernails."

"They're manicured!"

"I checked with administration. Your bill is being paid in cash through a law firm in London. You also crashed a I_very_ /Iexpensive sports car. It was registered to you. I did a little checking when I saw how little you remembered. You're a wealthy woman, Christina. You I_must_/I be!"

"It's not my money."

"How do you know?"

"I don't, really. I just feel that it belongs to someone else. Someone who cared about me."

"What is the last thing you remember?"

"The smell of pizza. Someone sitting on a stoop. I wanted the crust. Then it's gone. Nothing."

"Sounds like a good memory to dwell on for awhile."

"I must have been going to see my mother when I crashed. I would never have come back to Manchester unless it was to see her. Doctor, I'm quite sure I never knew she was dead."

"It may come back to you. I want you to make a list of anything that seems familiar to you and the feelings or imagery these items or situations elicit, and keep it to yourself. You'll know what I mean the first time it happens. It will feel like de ja vu. Write it all down. Carry the notebook around with you always. There are options you may decide to explore if your memory doesn't return as soon as you'd hoped." The doctor knew her memory had been erased and that it would not return unless she found the right triggers. After the gracious help Smidgeon had given them both, he shouldn't be encouraging the girl to recall what was taken from her, but he felt for her. Memories were personal property and he thought it was wrong. Little modifications here and there to protect their world was one thing, but taking ten years of a young woman's life was quite another. "Don't expect any miracles, but don't give up, either. Your brain scan shows no permanent damage. There's hope."

"I'll do whatever it takes. I can't tell you what a helpless, frustrating feeling it is, to live with such confusion. After all, it's only been one day. I can't even imagine how a I_week_ /Iwill feel. A year is simply unimaginable."

"Try not to dwell on it. I know how hard that will be, but don't allow your past to consume your present." The doctor stood and removed his exam gloves, tossing them in the trash. "Get some rest, Christina. You're healing well."

"Thank you, Doctor. For everything."

"Perhaps you should keep our conversations about your memory under wraps. What I've told you is personal advice, not professional opinion."

"I understand. I'll keep our discussions to myself, but on one condition. Give me the phone book and put the phone in the bed beside me?"

"Not yet. Give it a few more days." He knew the Ministry was acting to cover her old life and he thought it best that Christina's memory returned over time. He didn't want her finding out where she really lived and whom she really knew just yet. "That's all I ask. Three more days. After that, I'll even dial for you."

Christina sighed, defeated. "I need a shot, Doctor. I'm in a lot of pain."

"I'll send a nurse in. See you tomorrow."

"Thanks." Christina moved around as best as she could, trying to get comfortable, too limited by the leg that was in traction. Relief came when the nurse arrived and the fuzzy warmth of the medicine wrapped her in detachment. Christina let her eyes fall closed, dreaming of a sinister face in oils.

* * *

"Hey Slinky."

"Mrs. Potter! Long time, no see!"

Sara's face fell at the mention of her married name. "Just call me Sara. I insist."

"Sounds like trouble, I_Sara_. /IEverything alright?"

"Harry and I are getting a divorce, Yates. He moved out. He lives across the street."

"No wonder he seemed so uncomfortable when I asked about you the other day. I'm sorry to hear."

Sara tried to smile and decided on an abrupt change of subject. "So, I didn't know you worked here."

Yates leaned on the counter and propped his head on one elbow, looking down at her from behind the counter. "I _really_ wish I wasn't wearing this goofy lab robe right now. I look like a mad scientist."

Sara grinned. "Well, you sort of are, if I remember correctly."

"Guilty as charged! But then, we're all a bit mad, I think."

"I'll second that."

"You look great, Sara. I'd hit on you if I was more of a creep."

"And if I was more of a creep, I'd accept."

Yates laughed. "My wife would kill me, anyway, so it's a good thing. Want to see the new addition?" He handed Sara a muggle photograph of a ginger-haired baby in a frilly dress.

Sara took it and a warm smile crossed her face. "She's just I_beautiful_, /IYates. I've always wanted children. A boy. Maybe a girl as well. Doesn't seem likely now." Sara handed the photo back. "She's a lovely baby. I'll bet you're a great father."

"I would be, if I didn't have to work so much. I've been trying to hire some help, but my sign doesn't bring in many applicants."

"Send Severus an owl. I'm sure he could send a few of his better students your way."

"Snape? Are you mad?"

"I thought we'd already decided that I was?"

"Snape would send me I_something_, /Ialright, and I doubt I'd like it much."

"I'll speak to him then. You never know."

As long as the applicant knows his or her stuff, I don't care I_who_ /Isent them. I can't keep these hours up much longer."

"You know a lot about potions, then?"

"You could say that. We focus more on remedies than say, floor cleaner, but I like to think I'm knowledgeable."

"What can you tell me about fog vials?"

"What is it with those things? My father said he never sold a single one in forty years! Only hospitals and excavators use them, and they don't use many at that, yet recently I can't keep them in stock! I must have reordered a hundred times! I never even used to carry them until I saw there was a lot of money to be made. I mean, they cost a I_fortune_. /II don't understand it. People are suddenly crazy for fog vials and they're quite useless, unless there's some new fad in potions I don't know about."

"Really? They'reI _that_ /Ipopular?"

"They're mainly used to stabilize explosives, so there's a limit on how many the ordinary wizard can buy. I guess it's mainly been the same handful of people coming in every week for their allotment."

"They're rationed?"

"Of course, there's nothing stopping someone from sending their mates in to buy more. So, considering what they're used for, I've been telling a lot of the shadier types, like that Malfoy creep, that I'm out of them."

"Draco?"

Yates glanced around and lowered his voice to a confidential tone. "He's been coming in for at least a year now, every single week. Then, about six months ago, the other Slytherin types started showing up and I imagine they all know each other. After all, I saw him talking to that Sylvia what's her name. My father said she was the Draco Malfoy of Slytherin House back in the day. When he came in this morning I turned him away."

"Draco Malfoy was here this morning?"

"Bright and early. The thing is, I really I_am_/I out of fog vials. I wasn't lying. Your pal Snape sent me an urgent owl order requesting rush delivery. I didn't have what he asked for, but I mailed off everything I had left. I was glad to be rid of them."

"What about the limit?"

"Snape's a potions master. He can have all he wants. If they're going to the school, I don't mind selling them, but I'd already decided to cut Malfoy and the others off. With what I'm reading in the papers about Azkaban and that incompetent scheister we call a Minister of Magic, Julian Smidgeon, I'm not comfortable selling bomb-making supplies to Slytherins. This is an apothecary anyway. I'd rather focus on medicinal needs."

"That's a good idea, Yates. In fact, why don't you start by selling me some flu remedies? A friend of mine is sick."

"It isn't flu season. She's probably got something else, but symptoms are what they are. It doesn't matter what's causing them when it comes to potions."

"Have you ever heard of an illness that appears as the flu, but which comes and goes? Fine one day, in bed the next with a high fever, chills, aches, weakness, and whatever else? I've never seen an illness quite like that."

"I would talk your friend into seeing a medi-wizard immediately. She doesn't have the flu, that's all I can really say. If it comes and goes, there's an underlying cause and it probably isn't viral. She needs to get checked out."

"I'll do my best to persuade… her."

"Wait here, Sara. I'll be right back with your remedies."

* * *

Harry crossed his arms and glared at Draco. "Well? What do you want? After last night you're lucky I'm even listening."

Malfoy took a linen handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. "Look, I know you're refusing to sign the papers Sara gave you out of spite, and maybe you're trying to hold onto something you think is still yours."

"She's I_my wife!"_ /I

"Sara wants out. That's all I'm saying."

"No thanks to you!"

"My father told me what he said to you and I want you to know that he misrepresented the facts, as usual. Sara I_did_ /Isleep at my house, but she cried herself to sleep, over I_you_, /Iand she was there because she needed a friend. We found out about Christina, just in case you didn't know."

Harry dropped onto the step and sighed, his troubled eyes on the sidewalk.

"I imagine you got this crazy idea that Sara's been running off to my house for a proper shagging every time your back was turned and she only wants a divorce so that we don't have to sneak around anymore."

"Like that's such a stretch of the imagination!"

"You're an incredible git, Harry, and you've always been a jealous fool. I played hardball and you got the girl anyway. Sara always loved you most of all, you know, and you mistreated her. You took for granted that she was still there, no matter how you acted. This is your own doing, not mine."

"I never meant to be cruel to Sara. She doesn't understand!"

"I don't care about your excuses, Potter. However, she never cheated on you. She wouldn't have, given the chance, and I can attest to that first hand. We're still just friends, unfortunately, but it's all irrelevant anyway. Sign the papers, Harry. You've caused her enough misery for one lifetime."

"You just want to move in on my wife! Pick up where I left off!"

"I'd sneak in her window while you took a bath if that's what she wanted of me. I'll take what I can get when it comes to Sara, pathetic as that sounds, and yes, I'd be happy to move in your wife, if she'll have me. I told you once, a long time ago, that I loved her and that I intended to marry her someday and I've never lied to you in that respect. But like I said, she's still intent on pushing me away."

"Good!"

"Anyway, that's all I came to say. She wants a divorce because you totally blew it, Potter. It has nothing to do with me, so why don't you give her what she wants?" Draco tried to smile. "I didn't come here to rub it in, you know. This has nothing to do with you and me. I just wanted to set the record straight. She's done nothing wrong. That's more than I can say for you, or for my I_own_ /Igirlfriend, not that we have to worry about I_her_ /Ianymore. Think on it if you must, Harry, but in the end, just do as she asks for once. This may be your last chance to make Sara happy."

"Why do you always seem to show up during the lowest points of my existence? You're like a bad curse, or a I_disease_, /I Malfoy. You're cancer personified."

"I'd punch your other eye if I felt a little better."

Harry stood. I_"I hate you._ /I I want you to know that."

"Whatever, Potter. This isn't personal. Well, maybe it is a little bit, but it's your own fault." Draco mopped his brow again, shivered, and swayed on his feet. "I think I'm really sick."

Sara came out of the apothecary just in time to see Draco hit the ground. "HARRY I_POTTER!"_ /I

"I didn't do anything, I swear! He just… I_passed out!"_ /I

"Really! I've had enough of this. Get I_away_ /Ifrom him."

"Sara, stop being like this! I did nothing to him!"

Sara conjured a stretcher and levitated Draco onto it, then turned her angry eyes to Harry. "Just leave him alone. Leave I_me_ /Ialone, too."

"STOP! Would you just I_talk_ /Ito me? Please!"

"There's nothing left to say, Harry. You were a bastard for years. You I_left_ /Ime! You looked to someone else for the affection I was I_starved_/I for, and now you're sorry? You broke I_all_ /Iof your promises. I don't want to be your wife anymore."

"I'm sorry."

I_"I certainly hope so."_ /ISara held Draco's flaccid arm and disappeared, leaving Harry in possession of the empty street.

* * *

Sara sighed as she led Snape through the lobby of the house by the sea. "He's been asleep for hours. He woke up for a short time maybe an hour ago, but he fell right back to sleep. It seems the remedies I gave him did little good."

"I have what he needs. I've dealt with this illness once before. I was only able to save a few doses and it will take me a week to brew more. I_Just in case_/Ihe needs it. It's good to have these things on hand."

"What is it? What's wrong with him?"

"Allergies." Snape averted his eyes, "Draco has allergies."

"But you make Draco his potions I_every year!_ /IThis isn't allergies."

Snape raised his voice, annoyed. "It's a I_complication,_ /ISara. Stop asking me all these questions!"

"Are you sure? Severus, I found him on the ground, unconscious!"

"He just fainted, I imagine. You I_did_ /Isay he had a fever."

"Yes, I suppose that's all it was. It's just that, he never came to! He slept for many hours,I _all day_ /Iin fact! I was worried."

"We'll see how he is tomorrow."

"I had planned to move out tonight. I guess I'll be here longer than planned if Draco is ill."

Snape raised an eyebrow to reveal a quizzical, hopeful glance. "You were moving in with him?"

"Oh I_don't you wish,_ /Imy little match-making friend! No, Severus, I was not moving in with Draco. I was, however, going to stay awhile in his other house, since Christina won't be returning, but I can wait until he's cured."

Snape opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it again.

"My father's barrister, Brad Silverman, is arranging a flat for her in Manchester. Julian Smidgeon didn't feel she should return to the same house. He's afraid it might trigger her memory."

"It probably would, eventually. I assume Draco has arranged for Christina to be well taken care of?"

"He put a large sum in an account for her and Brad will transfer a monthly allotment. She's to think he's her attorney. I took Draco with me when I had Brad draw up my paperwork and the two of them talked about Christina while I was in the next room. I think I heard Draco ask Brad to hire all of her house staff with strict instructions to report back every week. He's terrified that she'll remember. With so much to erase, they're bound to miss a bit of memory here and there."

"He's right to keep an eye on her, if you ask me. We can't risk exposure."

"Speaking of exposure, what did Sylvia have to say for herself? Whatever it was, I'm sure it was a complex and well-constructed _lie._ I have reason to believe that they altered Draco's memory, so I hope you weren't taken in by that story she gave us. Whatever they were up to, she was in on it. Draco said she was the I_ringleader_ /Iwhen we first arrived. I hope you don't believe her, Severus."

"I haven't decided yet. I know what I've seen and heard, but I can't say with any conviction that she did any of it willingly."

"I know how unhappy you've been the past few months, but keep in mind that she tried to bring harm to people you care about. What would have happened if that guy was allowed to finish his curse? She stood beside them until then, remember. She revealed all this coercion in the 11th hour and that's much too late in my opinion. They were going to kill us, Severus, and Sylvia didn't come up with that ridiculous story until she realized she was backed into a corner."

"I was I_there,_ /Iin case you forgot. Like I said, I still need to speak to her."

"Let us do it. You've got a conflict of interest."

"And I_you're_ /Ialready convinced of her guilt. Both of you would see her straight to Azkaban."

"Then let Harry, Ron, and Hermione do it. They're fair, impartial, and intelligent. They're aurors, Severus; they know what they're doing."

Snape stopped and turned to leer at this idea. I_"Over my dead body."_ /I

"Just do me a favor, then. Don't trust her. Don't believe her. Don't let Sylvia out of your sight! In fact, there are wizard-proof cells beneath Malfoy Manor. Put her in there while you're at Hogwarts. I'll tend to her and bring her meals."

She can't get out of my house for the time being. I'll let you know if I require aI _prison_, /ISara. Until then, I'd appreciate it if you left this to me."

"I've left it to you already, haven't I? Look, I want to trust you with this, but to be honest, I'm afraid your feelings for Sylvia might get in the way."

"I will make the appropriate decision after I've heard her out and assessed the information."

"A little Veritas never hurt anyone."

"I'm still deciding if it's necessary. What she's told me so far makes sense."

Sara stopped at a door. "Draco's in here."

"You put him in _your_ bed?"

"It's the most comfortable room and I had extra blankets in the closet."

Snape tried to hide a smile_. I"Extra blankets,_ /Iof course."

"Oh, shut-up already!"

"I'd like to speak to Draco alone, if that's alright."

"Is it about the fog vials?"

"It's of a personal nature."

"I see. Yes, of course."

"I'll find you."

"I'll be on the terrace. I'll ask one of the elves to make tea."

"I won't be long." Snape slipped through the door and gave Sara a pained smile before he shut it again, leaving her standing alone in the corridor.

* * *

Sara stood as they wandered out on the terrace, Draco in one of Harry's robes. "You're up already!"

"I feel much better. Professor Snape always seems to have the perfect potion."

Sara smiled. "Thanks, Severus. I was really staring to worry about him."

"Not a problem when it comes to I_certain people_. /IIf you summoned me here for Potter, I'm not so sure I'd play the savior."

Sara reclined in her chair and motioned for them to join her.

"Draco, Sara tells me she'll be staying at your house on the hill?"

"That's right. I don't blame her for moving out with I_Potter_ /Iwandering in whenever he pleases, glaring at everyone and tossing furniture like a two-year old."

Sara looked at Draco with angry eyes. "Harry had every right to be upset, Draco. That situation would have upset I_anyone_ /Iin his place, and if you knew Harry as well as I do, you'd understand how much he held back. How I_calm_/I he was. I've never seen such torment in his eyes. When he tossed that key on the floor, he laid his heart alongside it and it hurt me to see him that way. As for the table, don't fault him for his ways. He didn't hurt anyone."

"I'm sorry, Sara. I just hate him is all."

Snape rolled his eyes. "That was touching, Sara, but I'd like to make a suggestion if you don't mind. Why not stay at Malfoy Manor? After all, you could keep each other company. It would be good for both of you."

"Do you ever I_stop,_ /I Severus? I_Draco and I are FRIENDS!_ /II'm going to check on the tea." Sara's heels clicked sharp against the marble as she stalked off, muttering under her breath.

Snape called after her. "I'm not I_deaf_, /I you know! You'd I_better not_ _POISON MY TEA!"_ /I He turned back to Draco.

"Sara's still a married woman, sir. It wouldn't be proper for her to reside I_publicly_ /Iin my home. It would be a scandal! I know better than to even _ask_ her. But don't worry; she won't be spending much time in the London house. I have an ace up my sleeve, and it's a most I_clever_/I one, I assure you."

"You've always been I_that_, /IDraco. I have faith you'll achieve your golden aspiration, in time, but be careful. There's one thing I can say about that girl. She's the most stubborn person I know. Play it the right way, at the I_wrong time_, /Iand you're back to square one with her. Wait for the right moments."

"I know exactly what you mean."

"And stop acting like you I_feel fine!_/I She has you sleeping in her room, doesn't she? I think maybe you still feel a I_little_ /Iunder the weather, don't you?"

Draco smiled. "Absolutely. Still a little sick. I do believe you're right."

"Also, you must be I_seen_/I together. Take her out. Go to parties. I_Arrive in style_/I anywhere there might be a camera flashing. It's sure to hit Potter in all the right places."

"But I don't I_want_/I Potter to think we're together! He'll deny her the divorce just to spite me."

"In that case, it's a pity that you're already in the new edition of Witch Weekly." Snape pulled a magazine from the folds of his robe, open to the page, and handed it to Draco.

There they were, in full color, dressed to the nines, and caught unawares in a friendly moment. Draco's eyes lingered on the two-page spread. There were several pictures of the dinner party. Snape and Sylvia appeared in a medium sized box off in a corner, and the caption read that they were no longer together, but the picture that was indisputably featured, the centerpiece of the article, showed Sara straightening his tie as they shared a secret glance and a smile in the hotel lobby. Sara turned toward the camera and took Draco's arm and she was beauty and grace personified. It was disarming just to look at her. A sly, private grin twisted the corners of his mouth. I_"Eat your heart out, Potter."_

"_My thoughts exactly."_ /I

"Sir, may I keep this?"

"Of course. I have several more copies at home. They're calling you I_the wizarding world's most attractive couple._ /ISee? Right there under the photograph. Oh, and see the little picture of our friend Potter? The fourth one over."

Draco read it aloud. I_"Lock up your daughters! Harry Potter is currently dating a teenaged girl after being sacked by his wife, Sara Lemke-Potter. Harry says he regrets being a lousy husband._ /IThis is great! Potter looks like a complete jackass!"

"I thought that one was a nice touch."

"I've never known Sara to hyphenate her name."

"I imagine it's so they can drop her married name at a later time."

"Good thinking. And I suppose you have no idea who their source is?"

Snape grinned. "Who me? Not a I_clue."_ /I

Draco laughed. "You know, I especially like this picture where Sara's straightening my tie. I wish I could have a real print of this."

"I happen to have a friend who writes for that particular publication. I could get you a copy I suppose. Now put it away. Sara's coming with the tea."

Draco stowed the magazine in the sleeve of Potter's robe, thinking he needed to see more of himself with Sara in the society pages. Perhaps they could even surpass the old, tattered Yule Ball photo he'd been staring at for too many years. "Sir, I think I have a new hobby."

Snape gave him a knowing smile and leaned back in his chair. I_"Excellent._" /I His face grew serious once more and his voice took on a gentler tone. "Don't let her slip through your hands this time, Draco. Remember what we talked about upstairs. Don't waste any time."

* * *

"At last, we see each other! I missed your presence, Nikita."

"You found the letters I left you, about all that's happened?"

"Yes, and they made my heart heavy. I asked you to make no rash decisions."

"There was nothing I._rash_ /Iabout it! I won't be made a fool, after all he's done. It's adding insult to injury. I didn't deserve to be treated that way. Not by Harry."

"You've been spending an exorbitant amount of time with Draco lately. I see you've been poisoned against my advice."

"Nonsense! I understand, but you must trust in me, Nikolae. I know what's best for me, though I always appreciate your concern."

Nikolae felt the unfamiliarity of jealousy creep through him. "He will break your heart."

"Draco loves me. It's one of the few things in my life I've always been sure of. He'll do no such thing."

"It I_will_/I happen."

"You're aI _telepath,_ /Inot a seer!"

"I divined it from him. We talked about it, Draco and me. Stay away from him. Please do as I ask."

"What do you know? What did you discuss?"

"You know I can't tell you."

"I I_demand_ /Ito know!"

"You must understand, Nikita. Draco harbors a dark secret that he has shared with only one other. As a true diviner, you must respect the human right to privacy of mind. You disappointed me once before over this same young man, and I cannot describe to you how I_wrong_ /Ithat was, no matter what the situation. You can't contradict our friendship in such a shameful manner. If you do, we are no longer friends."

"I had no plans to break into your mind, Nikolae. That is something I will never do again."

"Don't break into his, either. Promise me you won't do that."

"I won't. I promise."

Nikolae came forward and lifted her face in his hands. His voice was a whispered caress, ethereal and drifting, and pure emotion upon her ears. Sara held the vampire's eyes and her arm slipped around him.

I_At last, Nikita, I have met my match, and there it lie, in the most beautiful of mortals. _/I

Sara smiled and smoothed back his hair. "A match that could only be forsaken."

* * *

Draco sat up in bed when Sara came in with hot cocoa and smiled at him. She was dressed for bed and wearing a deep purple robe over a thin white nightgown. Draco smiled back.

"It's cold tonight. I thought this would help. Are you feeling any better yet?"

Draco stood and took the mug from her hands. "I'm still a little under the weather, but well enough to sit with you for awhile."

"I can close the windows if you still have the chills."

"I think I like them open. It's a perfect balance with the warmth of the fire." Draco sat beside her on a soft, comfortable couch and sipped his cocoa. "Besides, there are plenty of blankets and I've got I_you_/I to keep me warm."

Sara laughed. "Sorry, but I'll be sleeping right here, just in case you get sick again during the night or if you need anything."

"Oh please! You're sleeping on the couch? It's your room, Sara. I don't feel right taking your bed. I'll sleep on the couch instead, if you find me so repellant."

"You're not repellant! You're I_dangerous."_ /I

"That's never stopped you before. What have I done? Why don't you want to be near me all of a sudden?"

"You've done nothing wrong. It's just that… I don't know. This is the bed I shared with Harry. It doesn't seem right for me to sleep with you, here, together. Draco, I can't give you Harry's place while we're in this house."

"Then we'll I_both_ /Isleep on the couch."

"That's ridiculous. There isn't enough room."

Draco summoned his wand and cast a spell. Sara's feet, which had been on the floor, now stuck straight out and dangled over a wider cushion at the ankle.

"Great idea, if you wanted to set the couch on fire." Sara shrunk it again and sighed. "I'm sorry Draco, but this is the way it has to be."

Draco took her mug and set both on the table. His arm went around her and Sara held her breath.

"Sara, do you want me to go away? Never bother you again?"

"Of course not!"

"What am I to be? Your friend? Held at arms length until someone else comes along? Am I nothing more than a plaything?"

"You know better than that!"

He took her hand and placed it over his chest. "I do have a heart, you know, and it I_breaks_ /Ievery time you push me away. I think it's time you stopped doing it."

Draco stood and crossed the room to look out the windows, his back to the sofa on which they'd sat. Sara laid a hand on his arm, her voice a pale whisper. "Don't say such things. I think about you all the time."

Draco turned to face her and stepped in so close he could hear her breathe. His hand touched her face and Sara's breath caught in her throat. Her eyes fell closed as her heart raced in her chest.

"I got you something. It's a secret I've been keeping for many years, but perhaps now is the time."

"Not tonight. Save it until the moment is pure perfection."

Snape's words came into his mind and Draco let his hand fall away. "Very well then. A secret it remains."

Sara opened her eyes and tried to catch her breath. Something strange was happening. A warm, electric sensation that glowed from within and threatened her resolve. A sensation she hadn't felt in a very long time.

Draco held her eyes and stepped closer still, so near that his shirt brushed the soft fabric of her nightgown.

"Draco…"

"Kiss me, Sara. I'm asking you."

"Don't put me in this position."

"I won't do itI _for_ /Iyou anymore. If you want to, then kiss me."

"I can't, Draco. I'm still married to Harry. I can't be the person he is. I don't want to do the things he does."

"That part of your life is over. Sara, I've been waiting for eleven years. I can't wait forever."

"I just…"

"Do you love me?"

"You know I do."

"Not as a friend! You know how I mean."

"Yes."

I_"Then kiss me."_ /I

Sara moved closer as her hand touched the back of his neck. A strange tingle walked down his spine and Draco thought his heart might explode in his chest as it raced, thinking this might finally be the night when he got what he couldn't live without. His arm went around her as she went up on her toes, pulling him closer still.

Sara pushed him away, exasperated and flustered, trying hard to be angry. "You know I can't! Why would you ask me to compromise my principals this way? Why would you use my feelings against me like this? They aren't there for you to play with and manipulate!" Sara hurried to the door of the room and pulled it open. She turned and looked at him. "Draco, I I_do_ /Iwant to kiss you. I desire a lot more than that, but now is not the time!"

"Sara, I'm sorry!"

"Then don't back me into a corner!"

Sara left with a mumbled promise to return, but she was upset and Draco sighed. I_"Square one,_ /ISnape. How right you were."

* * *

176


	11. Chapter 11: The Art of Regret

The Girl in the Tower 2: Seasons of Discontent Ch 11: The Art of Regret

**Part Two: Be Here Now**

_**The **__**G**__**irl in the Tower 2: **_

_**Seasons **__**of**__** Discontent**_

_**C**__**ha**__**p**__**ter 11: The Art of Regret**_

bPart2: Be Here Now

Ch 11: The Art of Regret/b

c~/c

_i'All you need is love' is a lie cause  
We had a love but we still said goodbye  
Now we're tired, battered fighters…_

And it stings when it nobody's fault  
Cause there's nothing to blame  
At the drop of your name  
It's only the air you took and the breath you left

Maybe I'll sleep inside my coat and  
Wait on the porch 'til you come back home, all right  
I can't find the fight  
So I'll check the weather wherever you are  
Cause I wanna know if you can see the stars tonight  
It might be my only right

We share the sadness  
Split screen sadness

_Cause I can't wait to figure out what's wrong with me  
So I can say this is the way that I used to be  
There's no substitute for time  
Oh for the sadness  
Split screen sadness/I_

~ John Mayer – Split Screen Sadness

c ~/c

"Draco?"

No answer.

Sara threw back the blanket and went to the empty bed. There was a note atop the pillow and Sara sighed as she sat down to read it.

_ISara,_

_I went home. I got the feeling that you did not want me here. I don't want to be a burden, I can be sick in my own home, and it's just as well._

_I'm sorry I tried to push you. Please don't hate me for it. Anyway, I didn't want to wake you. Drop in or send an owl if you're in the mood for company. I'll help you move. You know where to find me._

_Draco/I_

Sara was dismayed to find that she was glad he was gone. It seemed that, lately, she'd spent every waking moment with Draco and had yet to allow the dissolution of her marriage sink in. She'd felt it last night, though, and was sorry she'd brought him here, to the house she'd shared with Harry. The look in Harry's eyes when he'd declared this _her_ house, _their _house, haunted her memory and she found he was right. Sara looked around at all the things that reminded her of Harry and spoke her realization aloud. I_"I will _always_ be Mrs. Potter in this house."_ _/I_

It made her sad, the idea of leaving, closing the doors to this most beloved place and walking away from her life. _Starting over._ There was an ever-present spark of excitement that accompanied such a life-changing event, where personal freedom would be restored and new doors could open. As much as Sara looked forward to these things, making such a drastic decision was one of the most frightening things she'd ever done and Sara grieved for what she was leaving behind. Thoughts of Harry ran deep. It _hurt_ to be cast away, to be the victim of his disinterest and animosity. He could never know how she still felt about him, or understand the damage he'd done to the part of her that felt trust.

A warm shower did nothing to lift the gloom, so Sara settled in the east lobby at the back of the house, ignoring her piano, looking out at the rain that fell on the terrace from a cold, listless sky. She knew she should dress and go to her shop, supposedly open for business. Instead, she sat alone on the end of the couch, wearing a pair of Harry's pajamas and his extra bathrobe, left at the foot of the bed by Draco. There was comfort in his clothes, but there was also a sense of loss so profound that it wasn't possible to feel happiness in _anything._ Harry had always been the light in her life when everything else was misery, but that dream was over now. It had been a long time since Harry had made her happy.

Of course, there was always a small voice in the back of her mind that wanted to forgive him, beg him to forsake all others and I_come home. /I_ That voice was usually drowned by anger, accompanied by righteousness and spite, but last night that voice had spoken to her loud and clear. Her every moral fiber objected to the thought of sharing her marriage bed with Draco, of seeing him I_wearing Harry's clothes. /I_ It was I_wrong, /I_letting him act in Harry's stead, be in Harry's room, put his things on Harry's bedside table, and sleep in Harry's place. However, the sum of these treacheries couldn't amount to the sin that was allowing it as Harry's wife.

Guilt and shame were cumbersome things, overpowering, resolute, and unmerciful. Crying without reserve seemed to be the only release from it and so Sara did it without modesty or reticence. It was simple, really. Sara missed her husband.

"I have to stop thinking about it," she told the empty room, "I don't want this anymore."

The house offered no reply and Sara settled back in the cushions, determined to brush aside the burden of such aching humility. Her thoughts turned to Draco, though Sara found little comfort in that subject, either. It was something she I_should/I_ be thinking about, especially after the conversation she'd had with Nikolae. His words echoed through her mind as they had last night in her dreams and doubt crept under her skin. I_He will hurt you._ _/I_

The low chime of the grandfather clock broke her concentration and Sara looked to the rain once more. Gray, like the mood of her thoughts, which now turned to fog vials. What was Draco doing with them? Why did he have such a large store of them and why had he gone I_just yesterday/I_ to get more? Yates had said that the Slytherin types had been coming in every week for months, yet Draco had been collecting for more than a year! Could it really be tied to what Sylvia was involved in? Why would he submit to some half-baked Death Eater scheme? Out of boredom? It wasn't likely, though he'd never really lost his true Slytherin nature. He was still the same person he'd been when she'd met him, except maybe a little wiser, quieter, and in possession of the detachment exclusive to lost souls.

Yates had seen Draco talking with Sylvia in his shop, yet she had taken drastic measures to get what he had. Had he agreed to something and then later changed his mind? Why had he never mentioned her, even when Snape was meeting her for lunch last week and he'd had plenty of opportunity to say he'd been in touch? Draco had never offered an explanation as to why he had so many of these obscure devices with such dangerous potential, used mainly for making I_bombs, /I_ and made no mention of why he was still after them. Why would he need more if he'd excused himself from their evil plot? Especially after Sylvia had been exposed? Could this be the dark secret Nikolae claimed Draco was hiding?

Once again, the other item he'd dropped in the lounge at the Houndstooth lingered strong in her mind. The solid _thud_ was a sound she'd heard a million times before, she couldn't put her finger on it, but she associated it with Hermione for some reason. The fabric in which it was wrapped was too familiar, Sara was certain she'd seen it somewhere, but the memory was elusive. The best thing to do was not to force it, to let it come to the surface on its own. Something, however, was driving her to get to the bottom of it. There was an urgency Sara didn't understand, and she I_wouldn't /I_ understand until she remembered what it was.

Then there was Draco himself. He didn't try to push her, not really, but it seemed he was forever maneuvering every situation into a moment ripe with romantic potential. It was hard to stay objective with him always so near, always so intense and affectionate. His gentle/aggressive nature brought her frozen heart to life and awoke in her feelings she'd forgotten. The kind of feelings that overthrow the senses and fill the soul with the rapture of pure emotion. To have him so close was nothing short of arresting, though Draco had I_always_ _/I_ been the ultimate temptation. In fact, he was the I_only_ _/I_ temptation.

The problem lay in his impatience. She'd asked him for time, but he'd yet to give it to her. She would have to take measures into her own hands before one of them made a mistake. One she didn't want to live with.

Sara sighed as the rain grew heavy and it was Nikolae who crossed her mind. She'd done something to him on the night they'd spend in her room, brought something to life that should have been left buried and dormant. Nikolae was not himself. He was jealous, needy, and possessive. He'd offered to make her a vampire and then cursed himself to hell for it. He'd rallied against Draco with passionate aversion and his former support for Harry was absent. What she'd been thinking that night was just a passing moment, but not for Nikolae it seemed. Last night she'd thanked him for his kind concern and moral actions and explained that it had been a mistake on her behalf. He was torn apart over it. He'd cried, talked at length of Antonya, ranted, and cried some more. Then he'd shouted at her for disturbing his peace of mind and stormed out, claiming he needed to leave her presence. He had not returned.

Everything, it seemed, was in chaos. Her marriage, herI _friendship/I_ with Harry. She'd stirred something in a vampire and didn't want to suffer the consequences. Then there was Draco, who confused her now more than he _ever_ had in their lives as friends. The difference wasn't so much in Draco himself, but in the way she felt about him. Sara knew she'd been honest when she'd said she loved him as more than that. She always had in a way, but the feelings she'd harbored in secret had only grown over the years as Harry's affection for her faded away. However, her heart was in agony and her mind was infected by bitterness. Rationality was sometimes fleeting, so how was she to know if Draco was what she really wanted for herself? True, she'd always wondered what it would have been like to venture a little farther with him, but letting him in would require no less than total commitment. Sara knew how it would affect him if she were to change her mind later. With Draco, it was all or nothing, so how, at a time like this, could she give him such assurance? Especially since there was so much doubt in her mind over the fog vials, his dishonesty over his association with Sylvia, the bold-faced warning Nikolae had given her, and his unwillingness to give her time. The knowledge mingled with her sometimes hard to suppress need for his close proximity, and it all led to one thing. Confusion.

Sara wiped her eyes and rose from the couch. Lounging around on a dreary day when one's existence is in ruins was no help when it came to keeping one's mind occupied, so Sara decided to prepare an early lunch, though she had little appetite for it.

* * *

Just as Sara was wondering whether or not to bother with dinner, the doorbell rang. She considered ignoring it, since she wasn't expecting anyone, and then pulled herself out of the couch and opened the door to a dismal night.

Seamus tried to smile on the step, soaked to the bone and with broom in hand. He looked her over and his smile faltered. "I was looking for Harry. I didn't know you were sick, or I'd have sent an owl first. Sorry I disturbed you."

"Come on in. I'm not sick, just a little lackluster."

"I guess I should tell you that I've got some bad news, so Harry might not be in the best of moods tonight."

Sara lowered onto a loveseat in the main lobby and motioned for Seamus to join her. "I've got some bad news as well. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Harry doesn't live here anymore. Seamus, we're getting a divorce."

Seamus sighed and slouched in his chair. "I'm sorry to hear it, and even I_sorrier_ _/I_ to say that it's no surprise. Look, I know Harry hasn't been himself these past few years, but he's a good chap." He glanced at the baggy, men's pajamas and bathrobe, then at her red-rimmed eyes. "Sara, if there's anything I can do…"

"I'll be alright. Thanks."

"Please don't take up with Malfoy, that's all I ask. I know you've always been friends and that he's better looking than the rest of us, but then we'd have to invite him to all of our parties."

Sara sat in silence for a moment, then covered her face with her hands and burst into tears.

Seamus nearly panicked and rushed to console her, taking a seat beside her on the couch, unsure over whether or not he should hug her or touch her in any way. Seamus was dismayed to find he was clueless when it came to comforting someone else's wife. "Geez, Sara! I didn't mean it! I was only kidding about that. Draco's not so bad, I guess. People look at him differently since he won the Medal of Heroism. He's still a bloody creep, but if _you_ like him, well, then I guess he can't be I_all_ _/I_ bad."

Sara burst into tears again, and this time Seamus laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'm saying everything wrong, aren't I?"

Sara sniffled and cried into her hands. "Yes! But it's not your fault. I_Everyone/I_ hates Draco except Severus, and everyone hates I_Severus_, _/I_ too!"

"I'd definitely take Draco over Snape I_any day." /I_

"What's I_that_ _/I_ got to do with anything?"

"Oh, nothing, really. To tell the truth, I've got no bloody idea why I said it! Sara, I'm sorry. You're upset and I can't sayI _anything_ _/I_ right." Knowing he'd caused her such distress; Seamus went against his conscience and pulled her against his shoulder. She laid her hand on his chest.

Sara could hear his heart thumping away, as if it was trying to break through the constraints of his sweater. He was edgy and his hand shook where it pressed against her hair. She pulled away and looked at him. "I'm sorry. I'm making you uncomfortable."

"It's not that, it's just, I can't really explain it, but Harry's one of my best mates and you're his… well, you know what I mean."

"Yes, I know what you mean. It seems you've stumbled upon an awkward situation."

"You needed a friend, didn't you? And I just happened to be the one who knocked on the door. It's karma or fate or something."

"I'm sorry, Seamus. I'm such an _idiot_, crying in front of company of all things!" Sara sniffled and thanked him for the handkerchief he offered. She wiped her eyes. "I mean, It's only nine o'clock and here I am, dressed in the same bedclothes I've been wearing all day. I haven't even combed my hair. I'm so wretched today, I'm sorry. I haven't even offered you tea."

"I'll tell you what. Why don't we go into the kitchen? I know a recipe for Irish coffee that can beat all. Besides, it's a right lot cozier in there. This room is far too big for a proper conversation.

Harry's pajamas swished as the makeshift cuffs dragged across the rugs and then made another noise altogether as she crossed onto the terra cotta tiles of the kitchen.

"Sit down, Sara."

Sara did as he asked, taking her usual seat at the table where she and Harry took their meals, watching Seamus work his magic.

With wand held aloft, Seamus made every cupboard open at once, and every drawer extended. Items began to fly through the air, a spoon, a measuring cup, whiskey, Irish cream, a whisk, a mixing bowl, and several things that Sara felt had no purpose in the making of Irish I_anything_,_ /I_ like a corkscrew and a purple candle. Spices measured themselves and then drifted into the brewing coffee. It was a spectacular show of skill and Sara found that, even after all these years, she still found a way to be amazed by the smallest and most common of enchantments.

Seamus set a tall mug before her with a red and white, peppermint flavored straw sticking out of a great fluff of cream, sprinkled with cinnamon and ginger. Sara took a taste. "It's delicious! You'll have to give me this recipe of yours! I can barely taste the barrel of whiskey I saw you put in it."

I"_That's/I_ the best part!"

Sara smiled and took another sip. "I could send Harry an owl if you want, let him know you need to see him."

"Sara, maybe you should give him more time? After all, he's certainly gotten a wake-up call I think. Wait until he gets his head together and then see how things are."

"I'm I_tired_ _/I_ of waiting for that very thing to happen. I've been waiting far too long already. I never threatened to leave him or even I_tried_ _/I_ to start an argument. I gave him as much space as I could. I left him alone when he wanted me to, which was most of the time. I didn't try to make him feel guilty or nag at him to do things with me. When he started leaving at night I only asked where he was going a few times and he never really told me. Of course, I I_know/I_ where he was going now, but the thought had never crossed my mind until I saw him I_snogging/I_ Christina on the locator.

"He stopped talking to me altogether after awhile. We were just two ghosts in this house, trying to stay out of each other's way. When we were out, I would take his hand as I always have and he would hold it for a few seconds, and then drop it to brush his hair aside. Then he'd stick his hand in his pocket. I can't even describe how hurtful that single gesture could be. He was always so I_distant,_ _/I_ Seamus, that when I tried to tell him about my day or engage him any sort of conversation, I often found that he'd tuned me out and hadn't heard half of what I said. He rarely replied, and when he did it was with blatant disinterest. Sometimes hostility. After the first year, I stopped trying. Now, I'm afraid it's too late."

"It's a bloody shame, that is. But you're not the only one he did it to. He seemed angry or distracted most of the time, but he tried to pretend he was cheerful. Once he let the vats run and didn't even notice that the line was out of bottles. I tell ya, we had a great bloody puddle of premium rum on the swillhouse floor! All the while, there he stood with his hand on the lever, staring off at the wall. It wasn't just you, Sara. He was like that with everyone."

"He never pretended to be cheerful for I_me!_ _Everything/I_ was my fault. He would accuse me of idiotic things, like moving his hairbrush when I hadn't or sneaking up on him when I'd been in the room the whole time. You see, though? He'd forgotten I was there is all. And it was Harry who brought his hairbrush onto the veranda. He'd just forgotten that it was in his hand and was carrying it around. He blamed every single thing on me, great and small, and I rarely tried to defend myself, even when he accused me of ruining his life, painful though it was to hear him say it. I tried I_so hard_ _/I_ to be understanding, to be patient with him, but I'm done with it now. I can't live like this anymore."

"I don't know what to say, Sara. I knew you were having a hard time, but I understand how you feel. I can't do anything right with Susan. All she does is yell at me all day and tell me how worthless I am as a husband. After awhile, you've been dragged down so far that you just want to get away from whatever's making you feel like the ugly end of a flubberworm. I've thought of walking away a few times, but I always find some reason to give it another go."

"And by doing so, you solved the problem?"

"Hardly! She's still all prickles and vinegar, but I don't want to leave her. I just want her to stop all the yelling and nagging."

"So tell her, Seamus. I know Susan well enough to know she'd listen to reason if she knew she might lose you if she didn't."

"Did you tell Harry that same thing?"

"Harry wouldn't listen to reason, no matter what I said, but no. I never threatened to leave him, even when I wanted to. I_He/I_ left_ Ime." /I_

Seamus glanced at the clock on the wall. "Unfortunately,I _I'll/I_ be leaving you, too. I still need to talk to Harry, it's right important, and Susan will kill me if I come home late again."

"And smelling of Irish whiskey at that!" Sara walked with him back to the lobby. "We don't want you getting into trouble. You'll find Harry above Toadbucket Tool. I'm sure he'll still be up."

Seamus gave Sara a friendly hug, kissed her cheek, and rested his hands on her shoulders. "Everything will work out for the best. Don't you worry, Sara. You know how to reach me if you care for another coffee."

Harry came through the door, hurrying to get out of the rain, and stopped dead when he saw them there. His wife, in the arms of his business partner, one of his best friends! Harry's expression turned furious and his accusatory gaze moved from one to the other.

Sara stepped forward. "Don't just I_barge_ _/I_ in here! YouI _moved_ _/I_ in case you forgot! I mean really!"

"Why can't I? It's my house, too. Or are you afraid I might catch you snogging all my friends?"

Seamus was shocked. "We weren't I_snogging!" /I_

Sara, however, was irate and insulted. "Actually, had you come through the door just five minutes ago, you'd have caught us shagging right there on that couch!"

"Don't tell him I_that!_ _/I_ He'll believe you!"

"He'll believe what he wants, regardless of what I say."

"We were just saying goodbye, Harry!"

"Don't explain yourself to the likes of him, Seamus. He had no right to accuse you of anything. He's just acting like a COMPLETE IDIOT!"

Harry looked to Seamus.

"Your girl was I_crying_,_ /I_ Harry. I couldn't just I_leave!" /I_

Harry looked at Sara, who was a shambles. The fact that she was hurt and annoyed was clear.. "I'm sorry, Sara. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. You're right, I'm an idiot."

Sara turned away and went to the window, pulling the curtain aside to stare out at the rainy night. "Apologize to Seamus. I'm used to your nonsense."

Seamus came forward, twisting his hands in nervous anxiety. "Look, I've got some bad news, Harry, and you should probably both hear it. Sit down."

"He can stand. He'll be leaving soon."

Harry was ashamed when he realized she was crying. He thought of going to her, but knew she'd only push him away. Seamus continued before he could do or say anything to ease the hurt he'd caused.

"I'm closing the Swillhouse."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "What? Why! We're making a fortune!"

"My talent has left me. I can't make swill anymore. I've been trying all week and all I get is a vat of funny tasting water. I doubt we'll make much off that. I'm sorry, Harry. I hope you didn't borrow against it."

Harry stood a moment and then sighed his frustration. "I should have known better than to think things couldn't get any worse. I've lost my wife, my home, my pride, and now I have no income. It's I_beautiful." /I_

"I've called a press conference for tomorrow afternoon. We'll be having a staff meeting at nine to inform the workers. We'll need to give them severance, of course."

"I'll be there."

"I need to go home and tell Susan. She's really going to think I'm worthless, now that I'm unemployed. Besides, I think you and Sara need to talk." Seamus touched the back of her head, knowing better than to turn her from the window. "Cheer up, Sara. See you in the morning, Harry." With that, Seamus hurried through the door, into the dampness, and was gone.

Harry stared at her back, but she didn't turn. He waited, wondering if he should leave as it seemed she wanted him to do. After a long, awkward silence, he found his most gentle and apologetic voice and spoke. "You're wearing my pajamas."

"It was the first thing I found."

"I haven't worn that pair in months."

Sara grew angry, thinking he had a lot of nerve, trying to get her to admit to missing him. "They're comfortable."

"Sara I…"

"Don't bother to explain yourself. I really don't care."

"Well I'm going to. Mariah and I are just friends. I only met her the other day. I know how it looked, but you got the wrong idea."

"I may have the wrong idea about her, but I don't have the wrong idea about I_you_._ /I_ The locator doesn't lie. It makes no difference anymore, Harry. You broke my heart and now it has closed to you."

"Sara, I'm SORRY!"

"You don't know how it was for me, to feel so betrayed. Christina can have you."

"I don't want Christina. I love I_you_,_ /I_ Sara. I know I've made mistakes. I know I haven't been the best husband, but I never realized how it was affecting you."

"How did you think it would I_affect/I_ me to come home and find that you'd I_moved? /I_ To find that the cruel, emotionless husband I'd suffered for THREE YEARS had I_left_ _/I_ me?"

"Sara, please don't cry. I'm willing to move back in. I miss you. I'm sorry I did it."

"Well this is the decision you made, you I_bastard,_ _/I_ and now you'll have to live with it."

Something awful and desperate inside of him snapped into a cloud of burning defense. "You just want to take up with Malfoy with a clear conscience! Don't be righteous with me, Sara! I'd move home this instant and try to work things out, but you won't hear of it? I'm not as naïve as you think!"

"Draco has nothing to do with you and me. I still love you, Harry, but I don't like you very much anymore. You are no longer the person I married."

"Is it true? You slept at his house? In his room no less? I've heard it from Lucius and even Draco admitted to it, but I want to hear it from you."

"I did sleep there. Nothing happened, of course. I'm not as loathsome as you. However, I'm sure you thought otherwise. I know how reluctant you are to trust me, even around your own friends."

"It's him I don't trust. It's always been HIM!"

_I"Nothing happened,_ _/I_ Harry, and nothing's happened since. Draco's been sick. I was going there to make sure he was all right, and also for a little company. Telling you how lonely I was is a waste of breath. It's been a long time since you've cared."

"Well I care now. I want to spend time with you."

"So there it is then. Now you know I I've felt all this time. In desperate need of your company, wanting to spend time with you, only to have you push me away with a few vicious words. I hate to say this, but I've put up with far too much. Consider my back turned."

"Don't do this! We can still save our marriage."

"And live the rest of my life like this? In the shadows, waiting for you to come around? Wondering every minute what sort of bad mood you're in? You always do this, you know. Wait until I'm ready to give up and then rush in to save yourself at the last second, only to go back to that bitter, sulking nonsense as soon as you think I'm content! I'm not falling for it anymore. All I ever wanted from you was love and affection. You refused me. You can't smooth things over this time, Harry. I can't take it anymore. It's over."

"I wasn't I_that_ _/I_ bad, was I?"

"Are you forgetting about Christina? How can I trust you now? And yes, you were that bad. You're selfish, indifferent, moody, insensitive, and cruel. I need to be happy again, and that means walking away from you."

"You're breaking my heart, you know."

"How's it feel?"

"I'll do whatever you ask, Sara."

Sara looked at him for a long moment, watching the sadness and desperation in his expression. "The comedy is over, Harry. Sign the papers. I want a divorce."

Harry dropped into the nearest couch and let his head fall into his hands.

Sara's tone was hushed and laced with compassion. "Why did you come here?"

"I was worried about you. You've been home all day, and then I saw you were drinking. Since I just saw Malfoy in Diagon Alley, I thought I'd drop in and make sure you were ok."

A little of the frost melted from her eyes. "I was just upset, I guess. It's so awful, what's become of us. When I think back to how we were before, the I_madness_ _/I_ we felt for each other, all the plans we had. I couldn't breathe without you, Harry, but now I'm suffocating."

"I never meant for things to turn out this way. I don't want to lose you. Everything has gone wrong. We're jumping to conclusions, and I already miss you. I hate my flat. I want to come home. I was wrong. I don't want to be alone. Stay with me."

"I miss you as well, but I'm glad you left. Maybe someday things will be different between us, but right now, I have to walk away from this. I'm sorry. I hope you can understand." Sara sat down on the couch and took his hand. "Too much has happened. I let it go too far because of some silly promise I made in ignorance. I meant it, of course, but I never dreamed you'd treat me with such disdain. I was on the verge of hating you and now I need time to heal. We both do. Harry, if we stay together, it will all fall apart."

"You don't know that."

"I do know it."

"I thought you had no real divining sense when it comes to me?"

"I don't need a divining sense. Like I said, my heart has closed to you, even though it's not my will."

"I really screwed up, didn't I?"

Sara felt for him in this moment as the room resonated with his misery. She couldn't bring herself to tell him that, yes, he had screwed up. In fact, he had screwed up so badly and for so long that even a friendship might be too difficult. "There's nothing to be done now."

"Let me make us some dinner at least. I'm hungry and I can hear your stomach from here. Besides, I don't really want to talk about this anymore."

"Just as long as you know it doesn't mean anything."

Harry sighed and squeezed her hand. "I hope, at some point, you can forgive me."

"I still love you, Harry, but it will be a long time before that can happen."

"I understand. Just know that I'm sorry, Sara."

Sara laid a comforting hand on his arm. "I'll start the salad."

* * *

Draco stirred the two cauldrons, and then measured out ingredients for tomorrow's batch. Snape also had a large amount brewing, and he was more likely to get it right, but Draco was determined to replace what he'd lost. Most of his fog vials were gone. Broken when the bag had flown from his hands. Only three had remained whole and in possession of their contents. The rest had been empty, and only five of them remained. Not enough.

The potions shop in Diagon Alley had set him at ease. He'd received his allotment there, and at the shop in Hogsmeade as well, but that Slinky I_what's-his-name_ _/I_ had refused him his long standing order. Funny, Snape claimed to have received a great deal of fog vials just this morning. The vials, and more important, a stable batch of potion, were crucial now more than ever and Draco sneered at the thought of the apothecary. Slinky, or whatever his name was, would live to regret the day he'd lied to Draco Malfoy.

The truth was, the culmination of all his plans was now on the brink of realization and nothing was ready. He needed every fog vial he could get, and he needed that potion. Thank Merlin Snape had taken pity on him, otherwise all would be lost and he would be in a very bad spot.

Draco covered tomorrow's ingredients with care, though his mind had wandered from the task at hand. Sara had not replied to his note. She hadn't even bothered to check on him, knowing how ill he'd been yesterday. It wasn't like her to neglect a sick friend and he was once again reminded of his mistake last night. The moment had seemed so right! She'd touched his arm with the gentle hand he'd always loved, and told him that she felt the way he'd hoped she felt, and yet the moment was wrong. Potter had been heavy on her mind, he'd stepped forward when he should have stepped back, and now she didn't want to see him. He'd gone too far, too fast, made the right move at the wrong time, and may have ruined his chances. Perhaps, he thought, he should just use one of his new fog vials to blow himself up.

Draco scuffed his feet as he dragged himself up the stairs, too depressed to put much energy into even the simplest of movements, and wandered into the kitchen, mopey, and with slumped shoulders. Draco sighed as he stood before the icebox, his tired eyes scanning the massive amount of food Sara had brought for him. He hadn't eaten all day, yet still had little appetite. Taking only a bottle of ginger ale, he carried it into the study, where he collapsed onto the couch.

"You aren't eating again?"

"Sure I am. I just ate before I came in."

"I do believe we've talked about this. Besides, no woman wants a scrawny, emaciated fellow."

"I'm not hungry."

Lucius rolled his eyes. "Now Draco, don't act like such a child. Your mother was always over-dramatic, too. I suppose that's where it comes from."

"I don't need your lectures. I'm having a bad day, as if it's any of your business, so if you can't be pleasant, go visit your harlot in Liverpool."

"That is a I_much/I_ more interesting portrait, but my interests lie here at the moment. At least have a bit of nutrium potion."

"I will."

"How are things going with the muggle?"

"I went to the flat in Manchester this morning. It's all set up for when she gets out of the hospital, except it didn't look lived in. I messed it up a bit. Put dishes in the rack, ran the shower, threw clothes on the floor, and laid on the bed. It still didn't look right, so I ground some mud into the mat and spilled merlot on the carpet. There's this electronic muggle icebox, so Smidgeon got the idea to open the stuff the maid picked up at the store for us. He made a sandwich, ate half, then aged the other half and put the moldy thing in there. It looks convincing, I guess. As for the money, it went into her account yesterday. We had to charm the superintendent and her neighbors into thinking she'd lived there for months, but we don't foresee any problems."

"Excellent. So, onto more pressing issues, what of Miss Lemke? Why are you home tonight?"

"She hates me."

"Draco, you've always been a pathetic failure when it comes to this particular young lady. What have you done this time?"

"I'm not sure, really. She got upset when I insulted Potter and after that, no matter what I did, it seemed I was stepping on his toes. I asked her to kiss me and she pushed me away. She was angry and left the room. I left after she fell asleep."

"Wallowing in self-pity, is she? I thought you'd convinced her to move to your other house?"

"So did I."

"You I_must_ _/I_ get her mind off Potter. Get her out of that house and keep her so busy she doesn't haveI _time_ _/I_ to think about him. What are you sitting around for? You should be over there, fixing your latest blunder."

"It doesn't seem proper, pushing her to spend time with me. She's lost her marriage, Father. She's grieving. I don't feel right going over there when I'm so blatantly uninvited."

"Nonsense."

"You don't know her very well, do you? Then again, I don't suppose you would."

"I know more about women than you ever will and I can tell you this: know one and you know then all."

Draco laughed. "All except I_this/I_ one. That philosophy got you killed, in case you forgot. Forgive me if I decline your advice."

"Point taken. What do you plan to do then?"

"She says she loves me, so the only problem is Potter. Snape had a brilliant idea and I think it could work. As for Sara, she asks me for time. I see no alternative but to give it to her. I nearly blew it last night. I think I handled it well by leaving, but it's hard to just sit here and wait to hear from her."

"Then don't."

"I _must_ _/I_ show her respect or I'll lose her completely. I must be careful, Father. Sara will accept nothing less."

"Do what you need to do, Draco, but be aggressive. Time is of the essence. Perhaps you should develop a back-up plan?"

Draco stood and walked away. "No one else will do."

* * *

Harry took Sara's plate and his own and rinsed them in the sink. "I'm glad you decided to stay in the house."

"I'm not, actually. I was supposed to move yesterday, but Draco was sick. Today… I don't know. I guess I just didn't feel like doing anything at all."

"What difference does it make if he's sick? You weren't moving to Malfoy Manor, were you? Please tell me you aren't."

"Of course not! I was going to stay in his other house for a while, the one on the hill in London. Then again, I'm sure you're familiar with I_that_ _/I_ one."

"What, he just threw her out on the street?!"

"No, but she won't be coming back."

"What has he done to her? How does he know she's not coming back? It's where she lives, after all!"

"He didn't do anything except make a request. The minister approved it, so don't get all bent out of shape. She won't be coming back to the house because she won't remember living there. I'm sorry to tell you, but she won't remember knowing I_you_,_ /I_ either."

"Where is she?"

"In the Manchester hospital still. Smidgeon says she's doing better. Don't look so horrified, Harry. You act as if you didn't know your little girlfriend had an accident. It was all over the front page, after all."

Harry went pale. "What sort of accident! What has he done to her? I'll kill him if he hurt her!"

"A I_car/I_ accident! She was driving drunk and speeding. She did this to herself, Harry. Draco hasn't talked to her in months. He didn't even know she'd left until her saw her picture in the Daily Prophet."

"She had an accident, so he had her I_memory erased?" /I_

"The ministry recognized that she'd left the wizarding world behind. She had no more ties here, except I_you._ _/I_ Draco doesn't want her around after what she's done. She was a threat to us all."

Harry threw the plate across the room in a fury and Sara flinched as it shattered against the wall behind her. His voice bellowed in the small room and Sara shrank in fear of him. "She's done NOTHING! It was MY fault!"

"Don't look at I_me!_ _/I_ I didn't know any of it! I only found out after the fact! Look, I can't say what they did was right, but the minister has to protect our world! She's a muggle! She put us all in danger! Who's to say she wouldn't have exposed all that she knew? She saw too much, they couldn't just let her walk away, all bitter and angry! She met the Dark Lord of all things!"

"You I_would_ _/I_ side with Malfoy!"

"I'm not siding with anyone! Forgive me for understanding the ministry's decision. You went along with the Order when they did something unthinkable to Draco once, you even had the final say, yet you fault me for seeing reason when I wasn't even involved? I can't say it bothers me. II _am/I_ a little bitter toward her, after all!"

"This has nothing to do with the ministry!"

Sara stood, knocking her chair to the floor with a loud crash. "She put her hands on I_my husband!_ _/I_ I'd curse her toI _hell/I_ if she was in front of me!"

"Now you know how I feel about Malfoy!"

"Oh please! There's a bit more history there than we have with I_Christina_._ /I_ He's my dearest friend, Harry. I love him and I_so do you!" /I_

"HA!"

"Have you forgotten all that we've been through? What _he's_ been through? Do you remember all that he risked for me? ForI _us?_ _/I_ He went back to Voldemort because I_you_ _/I_ asked him to. He didn't do it for me or for the order; he did it just to prove himself to YOU! I know you don't get on very well, but he'd do anything you asked of him!"

"Anything except I_stay away from my wife!_ _/I_ He's in love with you!"

"He's always been honest with you. He hides nothing. Harry, I I_do/I_understand why he upsets you, but your lack of trust is disheartening. I never would have cheated on you, no matter how tempting the offer."

"He scares the hell out of me, Sara! Just the thought of you I_talking/I_ to him makes me so nervous I can't even stand it!"

"That's because you don't trust me! You treated me like dirt and I wasI _still/I_ faithful to you! All the way up until the night you left."

"I thought you said nothing happened!"

"It wasn't Draco, and nothingI _did/I_ happen. I was so wretched that night. All I ever wanted was your acceptance. I wanted to spend the rest of my life in the warmth of your kindness. I waited for it to return, hoping every day that you would wake up and be the old Harry again, that you'd realize I was still there and that I loved you as much as I ever had. That day never came. Instead, I came home to find youI _gone." /I_ Tears coursed down her face as Sara struggled to steady her voice, breaking with emotion. "I stayed when anyone else would have given up on you, but I did it because I love you so much, Harry, I couldn't imagine my life without you. My heart began to leave you over the past year or so, but when I saw the locator…" Sara paused and took a deep breath, her eyes falling closed with the pain of memory.

The anger in his voice was replaced with sympathy and regret. "I'm sorry, Sara."

"It was the night you left that it happened. I had become so lonely, so starved for affection, just to feel like someone cared. He was there for me the way no one else could be, and my selfish heart wanted something more. Harry, I have done something so foolish and stupid and I regret it more than I_anything. /I_I awoke in the arms of my most trusted ally and now I have chased him away. He's gone, and I have broken his peace of mind, something that has remained steadfast for a millennium."

"Nikolae? You… are youI _serious?_"_ /I_

Sara's chair righted itself and she dropped into it, crying into her hands. "I know, Harry! I'm such an I_idiot! /I_I can't stand the way it feels, knowing that I would have betrayed you, had he not put a stop to it. At least Nikolae has some sense, because I certainly don't! And I have hurt him, the most gentle of souls, and it's such a terrible feeling. I'm no better than you, Harry. No matter where you live, you're still my husband. This is far worse than Christina, and I couldn't keep it from you for another moment! I know you'll hate me and you have I_every_ _/I_right."

Harry knelt by her chair and pulled her against his shoulder. "Sara, I don't hate you. You came home to find your husband had abandoned you. You had a moment of weakness, that's all. I had one, too. Nikolae will come around. Don't worry about that."

"A moment of weakness for a lifetime of guilt."

"I know how that feels. Christina needed a friend is all. I went there that night because of some foolish idea of having excitement in my life. I enjoyed her company and so I went back. I only kissed her for a moment. I didn't plan to, and she was horrified. Yes, I was attracted to her, but I couldn't cheat on you, either, no matter how much I wanted to. And I I_did/I_ want to. She suggested we not be friends anymore, because of you, and that was the last time I saw her."

"You… are you telling me that nothing ever happened? Harry, I thought that… But Draco said…"

I_"Of course/I_ nothing happened! Sara, why would you ever think…"

"It explained everything! You were always leaving in the night, you were cruel to me, and you wouldn't I_touch/I_ me! I thought that you despised me and when I saw the locator, it all made sense! I'm such a fool!"

Harry took her hand and kissed it. "I guess it I_would/I_ look that way, wouldn't it? I was just driving around, trying to clear my head. Thinking and stuff like that. She sent me an owl the night of our anniversary. She was crying over our dear friend Malfoy and needed to talk to someone. She didn't have anyone else."

"Harry, I'm so I_sorry!" /I_

"It's not your fault. I should have told you where I was going. I kept my visits to her a secret from you and so I'm to blame if you misunderstood. I lied to you in a sense and you had every reason to distrust me."

"Then I lied to you, too. I never told you I was visiting Draco. I only went a few times, and I had a few thoughts of my own, but I should have told you. I can't blame you for jumping to conclusions. We'd excluded each other by then and this whole thing could have been avoided with a little conversation. I guess we should just start over and try to move forward. You were right. Our marriage can still be saved."

"No, Sara, I_you/I_ were right. If we stay together, it will all fall apart. I should have seen the truth in that; only I was so busy trying to hold onto you that I'd forgotten why I left in the first place. I hate living apart. I want to come home, but you're right. We haven't solved anything. It would be the same after awhile and I can't live that way anymore. I can't mistreat you anymore." Harry kissed her and wiped her tears. "I'm sorry for all of it. I'm sorry I was deceptive. I'm sorry I made you despise me. We need to go our separate ways before we hate each other. That's the last thing that I want."

"I don't despise you, I love you! I'm sorry I thought you were unfaithful. I should have trusted you as I always have."

"Sara, I told you once that I would forgive you anything."

"You were seventeen."

"I meant it." Harry pulled the divorce papers from his pocket and summoned a quill. "There. I've signed them." Topenga took the papers from Harry's outstretched hand and flew off.

Sara tried to run after her bird, but Harry caught her and put his arms around her.

"It's done, Sara. We're free. As of this moment we are no longer married."

I_"No! /I_I thought you'd cheated on me when I sent them to you! Everything's different now, Harry, I don't want to lose you! I didn't remember how much I loved you until this very moment."

"Signing that paper was the hardest thing I've ever done, I want you to know that, but it has to be. I can't do this anymore. ItI _kills_ _/I_me to see you cry. I need to deal with my problems before I ruin everything that I love. You never know. Maybe someday the old Harry will come back to you."

"Don't leave. I'll never speak to Draco again!"

"That wouldn't solve anything. He isn't the problem. I am."

"Call Topenga back! Stop her, Harry!"

Harry released her and walked to the doorway, nothing more than the shell of a decent man. "Malfoy was right. I never deserved you. I'm sorry for all of this. I'm sorry I let you down. Sara, I love you too much to make you suffer. I'll be in touch."

"All I've ever wanted was you! It wasn't I_Draco/I_ who brought me home from Romania when I was about to throw myself off a building! I couldn't live without you! Harry STOP!"

She was shocked by his eyes, ablaze with anger. The dishes flew from the cupboards and smashed hard against the walls, covering the floor with shards of broken china, flower pots exploded, and the table struck the ceiling, breaking in two_. I"I'M A FAILURE! /I_A STUPID, IGNORANT, SELFISH_ IFAILURE!" /I_

Sara lost control as the sky erupted with thunder and assault the house with rain and hail. The wind stirred the shards on the floor and ripped the open doors from the cupboards. Sara threw her arms over her head and was pelted by shrapnel, sobbing her words as the storm inside the house raged with her misery. "Harry, don't go!I_ I WAS WRONG!"_ _/I_

Her words echoed, empty and hollow. Harry was gone.

* * *

135


	12. Chapter 12: Katet Pt 2: The Missing Key

The Girl in the Tower 2: Seasons of Discontent Ch 12: Ka-tet Pt2: The Missing Key

**Part Two: Be Here Now**

_**The **__**G**__**irl in the Tower 2: **_

_**Seasons **__**of**__** Discontent**_

_**C**__**ha**__**p**__**ter 12: Ka-tet Part 2: The Missing Key**_

It was too cold to have the top down, but Harry didn't care about the chill. He needed the fury of wind in his hair and the roar of the Jaguar's engine, hurling him through the night toward Manchester. His broom was propped in the well of the passenger seat, upon which sat a great vase of roses. He'd used magic to gather them from the front garden on his way out, knowing he wouldn't see the beauty of that place again anytime soon.

Sara would notice the vase was gone, since he'd dumped the flowers it held right there on the floor of the lobby, but that didn't matter anymore. Sara had been a kind, forgiving, and caring wife, and he had failed her in every way. It was his fault that she loved him as much as she did, he loved her just as much, but he was no longer the light in her life. Whatever light he'd held for her went out a long time ago. She deserved to be happy, and at the very moment she'd become his again, Harry had realized how true that old adage really was. If you love something, set it free...

Harry knew that she stayed with him, not because of her promise, but because she couldn't let go. Something inside her wouldn't allow it, and that thing clung to the narrow thread that still held them together with fear and desperation. Sara was an integral part of his being. To be without her left him incomplete, unwhole, as though something inside of him was missing. That's how she felt, too. Her deep sorrow resonated within him and paralleled his own. Harry hoped their paths would cross again someday.

Until then, he was not who he wanted to be.

Harry wiped his eyes as he drove, remembering the way she'd cried in the end. The image of Sara crouched on the floor with cupboard doors and broken dishes flying around the room like a most dangerous cyclone, shouting words of desperation through her sobs… It was enough to put a black mark on his soul for all time.

Harry hadn't wanted to leave, but in that moment, he'd realized the extent of what he'd done to her. The guilt he felt was a monster that ate at him from the very depths of his being, gobbling up what little remained of his self-respect. Sara wanted the old Harry, but that person had gone from him and may never return. It wasn't fair to let her wait for it.

His heart ached for Sara. All the promises he'd made now lay at her feet in pieces. They'd been nothing more than good intentions and wishful thinking from one naïve and innocent mind to another in the end. Harry had failed to become the person he'd set out to be, and the dissatisfaction of knowing it consumed him as it had for the past few years. Sara had stood by him, no matter what manner of cruelty lay in his distance and in his biting remarks. No matter how hard he pushed her away. Sara, the most precious thing in his life, had suffered enough on his account.

Harry glanced at his reddened eyes in the Jaguar's mirror before warding the car and carrying the enormous vase of flowers into the hospital. He approached the reception desk and tried to smile.

"Can you tell me which room Christina Safford is in?"

The chubby nurse glanced at a clock, deliberate and annoyed. "Visiting hours ended at nine."

"I'm afraid you'll need to make an exception. I only just found out and I've driven all the way from London."

"You're welcome to come back in the morning."

Harry's patience was running short. He produced his wand, hidden in his sleeve. i_"Influate."/I_

A minute flash of light issued from the tip.

"Pardon me?"

"I said, you'll need to make an exception."

"I'll make an exception. You've driven all the way from London, after all."

"What room is Christina Safford in? Perhaps you'd like to look it up on the computer."

"I'll look it up on the computer." The clicks of her keyboard punched holes in the silence. "Five-thirteen."

"Would you like to give me a badge?"

"Let me give you a badge." She pushed it through the glass, the word I_visitor/I_ marked in a red field across the top.

Harry clipped it to his shirt. "Enjoy your evening."

"I'll enjoy my evening."

Harry wandered away, stowing his wand and trying not to slosh water up out of the vase. He had never charmed a muggle before, but it was minor and he had to see Christina right away. His purpose over-rode the sense of wrong-doing, so Harry made his way to the 5th floor.

Nurses glanced at him with puzzled expressions as he passed, probably wondering how he'd managed to get the crabby old hag to let him through after hours. One look at his visitor badge along with the beautiful array of roses he carried and it was enough for them to leave him in peace.

The room was dim as he approached the foot of the bed, setting the flowers on a side table. The bruises that covered her twisted something in his chest and Harry was sorrier than he'd ever been for forgetting the note she'd sent him. He still kept it in his London flat as a reminder never to neglect a friend. Had he answered it, none of this would have happened.

A petite nurse came up beside him on quiet shoes. "She's had a sleeping pill."

"Good. I don't want to disturb her. How is she?"

"Improving, but she'll be here about another month. There's a compound fracture in her leg, so she can't be moved until it comes out of traction."

"I see. She won't like that, but she won't complain too much."

The nurse gave him a kind smile. "You're welcome to sit awhile. A little company would do her good, asleep or not. I could get you some ginger ale if you'd like."

"No thanks. I'm fine."

She left him with only the sounds of Chris' breathing and Harry pulled a chair aside the bed. One of her arms was in a cast, the protruding fingers bruised and purple. He took her other hand in his and sighed in the darkness.

* * *

"I don't understand it, Severus. Nothing's everI _hit me_ _/I_before. The wind was so powerful, whipping around the kitchen. It was almost like a cyclone. It scared me half to death, but I was so upset at the time, I couldn't control it. The thing is, I can usually walk right through my wind storms as though I'm just a ghost of myself, or perhaps I'm protected by an invisible ward, just deflecting the wind, and everything it throws at me, off to the side. Last night my storm turned against me. I'm cursed."

Snape applied one of his special salves to a shallow gash in her forearm, covered it with a bandage, and then applied slave to the deeper cuts on her hands. "I don't know about that. Perhaps youI _wanted/I_ it to hit you. If I_I/I _were a young woman with the misfortune of being married to Harry Potter, I'd want a lot more than a I_cupboard door/I_ to hit me. A bus comes to mind."

"Severus, please. _Not today."_

Snape's voice adopted an air of innocence and rose an octave. I_"What? /I_ I didn't say anything."

"What of Sylvia? Tell me about that. Just don't mention Harry anymore."

"She's gone, since you ask."

I_"WHAT?? /I_ Severus, you I_let her go? /I_ Are you I_mad?" /I_

"Someone broke her out of my house while I was out last night. I'd taken a port key to Borneo as I finally received a permit for an Acromantula egg. There was a giant hole in the side of my house when I got home. The thing is, I was almost convinced of her innocence, and now I'm not so certain. I would have told you sooner, but I didn't think now was the best time for bad news."

Sara sighed as Snape applied his salve to her chin and her forehead. "She's going to come after Draco."

"You don't know that. She may have been kidnapped."

"I'm a diviner, remember? I know a lot of things."

"And how many times have you told me that the future can't be relied upon?"

"Do you I_always/I_ have to argue?"

"Yes."

"You're just like Draco, you know. Perhaps I_you/I_ should move to Malfoy Manor and I_keep him company." /I_

"I would, but he'd make me soI _insane_ _/I_after awhile, I'd end up conjuring a very tall building and throwing myself off it."

Sara laughed aloud. "But I thought he was your most favorite person in the I_whole wide world?_ _/I_I thought he was your long lost son or something?"

"Draco _has_ been like a son to me in a way. He endeared himself to me as a small boy, and now that Lucius and Narcissa are gone, I feel some responsibility toward him. However, he certainly has a way of I_trying one's patience." /I_

"Well, I can't even I_begin/I_ to argue with that one. You're right for once."

"I'm always right."

"In your own mind."

"Perhaps you should move out of this house, Sara, it's about time for it I think. If you don't want to be reminded of Potter, I don't know why you'd insist on staying here."

Sara sighed, handing him a clean bandage. "I'll probably do it today. Maybe tomorrow."

"Draco says—"

"I don't I_care/I_ what Draco says!"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Has anyone ever told you that you'reI _impossible?" /I_

"Ha! I_Likewise!" /I_

* * *

"But… who are they from? Is there a card?"

"No card. You must've had a late visitor."

"It figures. Someone finally visits me and I I_sleep/I_ through it!"

"There' are I_dozens_ _/I_of roses there, Christina. Someone cares, I'd say."

Christina laughed. "They didn't care enough to I_wake me up." /I_

"At least someone knows you're here. Perhaps it's your young man?"

"I wonder if I have one? I wonder if he's good looking? I can only hope it's Liam Gallagher from Oasis, but with my luck, it will be Noel."

The doctor laughed. "The nice girls always go for the fabulous and arrogant types. We doctors can't catch a break. It's time for your weekly x-rays, Mrs. Gallagher."

Christina wondered for a moment if her doctor was making a joke or dropping hints. Undecided, she pretended to miss the comment altogether. "You mean I get to move out of this bed?"

"Don't be silly. We're bringing technology to you." An orderly wheeled in a large machine and Christina sighed.

"I don't know why I can't get up. It doesn't even hurt anymore."

"Perhaps in a few weeks, depending on how the leg heals. Move it too soon and we'll have to start all over."

Christina lay back on the pillows, looking at the vase of flowers on her over-bed table, hoping they were from the swaggering, beautiful, Liam Gallagher, and wondering who they wereI _really_ _/I_from. The question burned in her mind, demanding an answer when there was no hope of one. Only a man would bring so many roses to a woman. A man who loved her enough to remove every thorn. The mystery captivated her every thought and she could only hope he would return again tonight.

The x-rays were done in less than a minute and her heart sank as her charming young doctor left the room. He was the only company she had. Christina sighed as she turned back to the telly. I_The muggle telly/I_ she thought, wondering why such gibberish had leapt into her mind. However, the word had such meaning, lingering just below the surface, unable to rise to the forefront. Christina wondered what it meant.

* * *

Sara sat on the same couch as the day before, surrounded by crumpled tissues, wearing the same wrinkled pajamas and robe, holding a cup of tea and staring out at a carbon copy of the same rainy evening. There had been no word from Harry. She could feel his apathy and confusion without the aid of the Fortificus Charm or the Amoridon. His sorrow mingled with her own and complicated her grief.

Letters sat on the coffee table, unopened, and Sara lifted each of them one more time, looking for his familiar hand. Seamus and Susan had written. So had Neville and Mary, Ron and Hermione, Draco, and Brad Silverman. Sara considered this last, dreading what she knew it might say, fearing it confirmed and officialized her divorce. I_Hoping_ _/I_it was to say that Brad was holding the paperwork, awaiting her go ahead. Maybe there was one last paper to sign? Sara set down her cup and held the letter for a long time before tearing the seal, only to find her greatest fear confirmed, and Sara cursed the ease of wizarding law.

Realizing she was no longer Mrs. Potter, Sara hung her head and cried until her head ached and her eyes burned. She lay down and closed them. Sleep was a necessary refuge, and Sara drifted into it with relief.

* * *

"Camera one, camera two, camera three, and… camera four!"

Ron grinned. "Perfect, Harry! I guess that rotten house elf isn't as worthless as I thought!"

Hermione poked her head between their shoulders. "The angles are excellent! Look, you can even see the worktable in the potions lab!"

Ron took a closer look at the images floating above the receivers. "Hey, there's Lucius! It looks like he's… what's he doing, Harry? Can you see?"

"He's choking the old man in the portrait next to him."

"That's what I thought. You'd think they could have painted him a better disposition. Ok… camera two. Lobby… boring… Camera three… Hey, why's Draco still in bed?"

"Who cares? As long as he's I_alone_."_ /I_

Ron and Hermione shared a concerned glance. Hermione returned to the fourth image, her eyes scrutinizing and intent. Ron turned back to Harry, who was watching Malfoy sleep with the strangest expression. "Take a look at the potions lab, mate. I think we can get a good idea of what he's up to. It'll be a lot of research for Hermione, but she likes that sort of thing."

"And what makes the two of you think it's all on I_my/I_ shoulders?! You have a responsibility, too, you know! And I'm sure it never occurred to either one of you to offer to help?"

Ron narrowed his brow. "Fine then, if you're going to be like that! I_Harry/I_ will do the research!"

"I will?"

"I thinkI _both of you/I_ should do it!"

Harry sighed, trying hard to hide his despondency and his broken heart. "I'll do it, Hermione. I don't mind."

Hermione tipped her head and looked at her friend for a long moment. She reached across and took his hand. "I'll do it, too, then."

"Well, you're not leaving I_me/I_ out! I guess if we're gonna spend hours and hours looking at the most boring books in the world, then I should probably come along, or else I'd _Inever/I_ hear the end of it."

Hermione dropped Harry's hand to cover a sudden burst of laughter. She looked again at Harry, who looked back, grinning. "Would you get me a chair, Ron? I need to study the lab. Perhaps I can get a few clues as to what he's making."

"Who knows what's in those jars? They aren't labeled or anything."

Harry placed a chair behind her. "Let us know if you have anything."

"I will, Harry. Thanks for the chair."

Harry turned to Ron. "Collin sent the first batch of pictures and I'm dying to have a look at them."

Ron followed Harry back out to the main office and pulled a chair from one desk to the other. "Hey, how'd the press conference go? I hear Seamus said the two of you decided to cease production to focus on other things. Bit of a stretch, don't ya think?"

"It's better than saying he'd lost his gift. Of course, all the pubs that got cases of water last week know better, but it's just a generic excuse. It's the press after all."

"Really! It's not like the Daily Prophet ever makes stuff up."

"Rita Skeeter was there. We banned her Quick Quotes Quill."

"Good thinking. And just so you know, We never would have taken the severance if we didn't need it. Bit of a shock to lose your main source of income at a time like this. Hermione wants to go back to work, but I won't have her being an auror in her condition."

"I'm sure the ministry can find her a less dangerous job for a while. I know how you feel, though. The swill was my I_only/I_ source of income. Good thing I have a good lot saved or else I'd be in trouble. We always paid the bills with Sara's money for the most part. Now I'll need to pay half of the upkeep for the house, plus the merchant taxes on the shop. If this business doesn't take off within a year I'll have to cut my losses and sell it."

"It'll all work out, Harry. For you and for us, too."

"With the way my luck's going, I rather doubt that."

"I'm going to say this one last time. Harry, things couldn't I_possibly/I_ get any worse. I really mean it this time. You'll have nothing except good luck from now on. So, have you seen the pictures yet?"

"I was waiting for you, actually." Harry pulled the photos from a manila envelope. "There he is, sitting on the step of Sara's shop."

"I still think it's a good idea to put a camera there. I've gone over every day, but she hasn't been there. Understandable."

"Here he is, coming out of the potions shop around the corner."

"He's got more of those fog vials! That's where Hermione and I saw him a couple of weeks ago. What the bloody hell is he doing with them all?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out."

"Who's he talking to in that one? It's hard to tell with the cloak and all. A bit heavy for autumn, don't you think?"

"The hood's pulled down so far it's hard to tell who it is."

"Look closer, Harry."

"It's Bellatrix Lestrange! But she's in Azkaban!"

"I guess not. That's bad news if I've ever heard it. I_She's/I_ bad news."

"I wonder what the two of them are up to?"

"Whatever it is, it's nothing good. You can be sure of I_that." /I_

"I have a feeling this isn't a family reunion." Harry pulled a new file folder in front of him and marked her name on the tab. "Ron, I'm putting you in charge of digging up info on Draco's dear Aunt Bella. See what you can find."

Ron tossed the folder onto his desk. "I'd like to see Bellatrix in Azkaban for I_life/I_ after what she's done. If we catch her, I propose we hand her over to Neville before we bring her in. He deserves a good go-round."

"Turning her in doesn't seem to do any good. She never seems to stay in Azkaban long, or else I'd agree with you. There must be corruption in the ministry again."

"Isn't there always?"

"Suddenly all of Yates' prattling doesn't seem so far-fetched."

"Old Slinky was over here earlier. Slammed the Daily Prophet down on Hermione's desk and started ranting about Smidgeon and dementors."

"In this business, it's good to be up to date on politics and conspiracy theories. I don't mind him coming around. He's a right I_likable/I_ fellow, anyway. Hasn't changed at all since school."

"He gets really upset, though. Hermione and I did a lot of nodding."

"Don't dismiss him, Ron. He may be a bit more passionate than your average wizard, but his ideas are solid, whether we chose to believe them or not. I've been considering what he had to say last week about Smidgeon being too scared to appoint more guards to the prison. If there's corruption in the ministry, and Bellatrix on the loose confirms that, then maybe Smidgeon is afraid of something other than dementors."

"You think he's being threatened?"

"You've met Smidgeon. He's an honest, dedicated man if I ever met one. Do you really think he'd turn his back on such an obvious problem?"

"You're right, Harry. Dad always said Smidgeon was the best Minister of Magic in years. He says the only thing the man lacks is a backbone. I thought you were confident that the prison break wasn't going to happen?"

"I don't think it is. I think something else is afoot here. I think Draco Malfoy is in the middle of it, and so is the Ministry. Smidgeon knows something. Perhaps I'll send him an owl later."

"Good thinking, Harry. Speaking of Malfoy, what's he doing there?"

"Looks like he's threatening a little kid."

I"_Terrorizing/I _him is more like it. And that one? Isn't that the post office?"

"I'll see if I can get Collin to zoom in on that letter."

"Who's that?"

"An old woman. Malfoy's giving her something. Look there's a tiny box, like a port key. He's slipping it into her hand. There's a whole line of frames here. He greets her, shakes her hand, there's the box, and then she puts her hand in her robe pocket."

"Just look at the conniving little fink! He keeps glancing around. He's up to no good, that's what I say."

Harry took another blank file from an open box, marked the tab I_Old Woman – DM_,_ /I_and placed the relevant pictures inside it_. _"This one's for Hermione."

"Who gets Malfoy's file?"

"I'll focus on him for now, but I'm sure all three of us will be making many contributions to it. Draco seems to be the star of the show, as usual." Harry sat looking at a picture of Draco, laughing with Sara in front of her shop. "I've got to go upstairs for awhile. Just knock if you need me, or else I'll be down after a bit."

Harry climbed the stairs, hurried through the door, and fell against it with a heavy thud the moment he was inside. It was so hard, having his friends here when his life was a pile of rubble at his feet, when he couldn't focus for more than a few moments at a time, when every fiber of his being was steeped in misery.

Harry fell onto the bed, dejected, and wondering what he'd been thinking when he'd signed the divorce papers. It had been impulsive, a moment he'd mistaken for clarity, thinking it was the right thing to do for Sara's sake, a flash of altruistic stupidity, atonement, and he already regretted it. They could have separated for awhile, but at the time, he'd wanted her to be free, untethered, but it was the greatest blow to know that she was no longer his. To know that he'd cast away the person who loved him most in this world. In doing so, he'd left himself to suffer her loss, to wallow in the murky depths of self-pity, wondering every day how he would get through yet another without her. He could feel her sadness. It radiated within him, twisting his misery until he felt the need to run home and beg forgiveness. Pulling the covers over his head did nothing to sate this desire.

* * *

"Christina? I'm sorry, but we need to redo the x-rays. It seems you have no broken bones," the handsome doctor grinned, "And we both know otherwise, so I'll need you to lie still again."

"Perhaps they weren't broken to begin with? The pain has been unbearable. I've been calling for shots every four hours, yet I was fine when I woke up this morning. The pain is gone."

"Your leg is in about I_one billion_ _/I_pieces. It's likely just a bad x-ray. Now don't move."

Twenty-five minutes later, Christina's doctor returned with another doctor in tow. "Chris, this is Dr. Greene. He's an orthopedic surgeon and he's had a look at your films."

"Let me guess. My leg's still broken?"

"Not according to the x-rays. It appears to have healed overnight."

The elderly man chortled, his voice gruff and dry. "Nonsense."

"Dr. Greene is going to examine your leg. Give a shout if it hurts."

The splints were unwrapped with care and Dr. Greene gingerly tapped the fleshy part of her calf. "Does this hurt?"

"No."

"That should have sent you straight through the ceiling. Odd. There should be a great deal of bruising, but there's none here that I can see. Just a few yellowish vestiges of a bruise. Basil, the contusions you described should have taken I_weeks/I_ to get to this point. Not a mere seven days."

Christina watched as her doctor's eyes lingered on her vase of roses. His manner changed in that moment from bewilderment, to nervousness and haste. "I'll have to take another look at it. Thanks, Ed."

"Hold on just a minute, Basil! I've yet to begin my exam!" The old surgeon tapped up and down the bone, scratched his head, and then asked Christina to wiggle her toes. "Basil, this leg is not broken. I suggest we get Miss Safford out of traction posthaste!"

"What about my arm?"

Another exam ensued. "That isn't broken, either. We'll get this cast off as well."

Christina grinned. "Excellent!"

"Basil, I'd like to see Miss Safford's admission films."

"Certainly. I'll fetch them if you'll arrange for Christina's freedom? I have a feeling she won't take well to waiting."

"Bloody right I won't! You can spend all day looking at my films if you'd like, just get me out of this bed!"

* * *

Sara's eyes flew open and she sat up with a gasp, leaping from the couch onto running feet. She raced through the lobby, bumping into a table, trying to shake the sleep from her eyes, and sent three sculptures to the floor where they shattered. Sara ran through the library, down the stairs, and through the maze. Her breath came jagged, shallow, and laced with fear as she removed the wards to the room in which Nikolae usually slept. Her hand trembled as she turned the key in the lock. Something had come to her in her dreams, and Sara hoped against all odds that she was mistaken.

The cloth was gone. The very fabric that had haunted her thoughts for days had once draped a little side table beside Nikolae's couch. There was nothing on the table now, save a candle and a few novels. Terror crept through her as Sara realized why she'd associated the solid thud the item had made with Hermione. It was the sound of a thick book hitting the floor.

Panic seized her as Sara pulled the heavy wooden box from beneath the couch and lifted the lid, foolishly left unwarded, as they'd thought it most safe in this room. Even Nikolae thought it was safe, yet they had been wrong. Very, _very_ wrong.

Sara stared into the box as her heart beat a wild fury and her pulse raced, considering the scope of what it meant. Bellatrix Lestrange and her company of foul Death Eaters had Harry's book, and that meant they could find the other three.

Sara got to her feet, knowing she had to warn Harry, Ron, and Hermione at once, but what could she say? How could she explain what had happened during Snape's dinner party? They would never believe Draco was innocent. They would condemn him, label him a thief, a liar, and worst of all, a Death Eater.

But I_was_ _/I_he innocent? Questions began to surface in her mind, all of them demanding answers, and nothing made sense. This room was warded and locked. When Sylvia and her friends had used the Imperious Curse on Draco, there had been no one here to let him in. It was still too early for Nikolae to have opened the door for him.

Sara slammed the lid down on the box and hurried back to her room. The port key left her in Lucius' study and Sara tore through Malfoy Manor, running on bare feet to the third floor bedroom. "DRACO!"

The door slammed against the wall as Sara came through it, enraged and distraught. _I "Draco Malfoy!" /I_

Draco climbed from the bed and tried to smile away his anxiety, but the rage in her expression made him think better of it. "Why are you I_yelling/I_ at me?"

Sara threw the empty box to the floor at his feet.I _"I won't cover for you!_ _/I_I can't _believe_ you would do this to us! To I_me! /I_ We trusted you! We let you in our house! And what have you done with that trust except put everyone's _life_ at stake! Do you have I_any/I_ idea what you've _DONE?!"_

"Actually, no."

"Don't play ignorant with me! I was _Iwith you/I_ when you brought the book to Sylvia! How could you have gone to my house to retrieve it without me there to let you in? You took it before the dinner party!"

"A book? Are you really carrying on like this over a book? Sara, WHAT are you talking about?"

Sara burst into tears, screaming at him, her hands clenched tight as the floor gave a tremor and lightning flashed outside the windows. "HARRY"S SPELLBOOK!! It's GONE and YOU gave it to the Death Eaters!"

"Not the book Voldemort's in! I would _never _have given them that! Imperious Curse or not!"

"You're LYING!"

"They'd use it to free him and I would I_never_ _/I_go back to that! He'd kill me this time. He'd kill you! He'd kill I_all of us! /I_ Sara! You know what he did to me. You know I want those books safe more than all of you combined!"

"You took that book from my house and now it's in their hands. You gave them the I_key/I_ of all things! It will tell them where the other three books are! We have a matter of days, perhaps even hours to secure them or Voldemort will be loose before the week is out. Our only hope is the passwords."

"I didn't take it. At least not that I can remember. I swear to you."

"How did you get into the room? You've seen the wards removed enough to remember them, but you need a key and you didn't have mine. Harry, Nikolae, and McGonagall have the only others."

"Give me a Veritas serum. Even if it doesn't help me remember, at least you'll know I'm telling you the truth. Sara, I would never hand those books to the other side. I give you my word, I'd hand I_you_ _/I_over first, and I'd never do that, either. I wouldn't steal from you. I wouldn't stand here and lie to you, but I'll do anything I can to help."

"I want to believe you, but this goes I_so far_ _/I_beyond our friendship that I have no choice. This is a big deal, Draco. I'll have to summon Severus for the serum."

"I find that to be a great relief, if you must know."

"I'll have to contact the others first. They need to know I_at once._ _/I_I'm sorry, but I can't let you out of my sight."

Draco sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, watching Sara as she knelt before the fire with a jar from the mantle. A quick glance at the locator told Sara that Harry was I_Home_ _/I_and she could only hope he had a fire lit.

Of course, he didn't. "I'll have to go there directly. There's no time for an owl."

* * *

"Ron, come quick! Sara's at Draco's house!"

Ron looked up from the picture he was studying and set down his magnifying glass. "Say what?"

"Get in here! She looks furious!"

Ron arrived in seconds. "Wow, she just threw something at him! Lousy shot."

"I thought these things had sound?"

"They do! Don't tell me we never turned it on?" Ron grabbed the receiver and started flipping switches. In his haste, he turned the device off, losing the image. By the time he got it turned back on, Sara was getting up from the fireplace.

"Who was she trying to contact I wonder?"

"We'll never know now. Sorry."

Sara's voice came through the device, tinny and irate. "You're coming with me. You've got one minute to dress."

Draco's voice filled the little room, which Harry had dubbed 'the X closet.' "I'll go wherever you want, but let me run down to the lab real quick. I need the potion Snape gave me. I don't feel very well."

_I "There's no time!" /I_

"If you insist. You know, I curse Sylvia for all of this. If I see her again, there will be nothing left of her for Snape to love."

"Someone broke her out of Severus' house last night. Ten galleons say it was your Aunt Bella. Your family is a I_menace_, _/I_Draco."

Draco smoothed his shirt and turned this way and that in the mirror. "We never should have left her to Snape. He's gone all soft since he's taken up with her."

"Hurry up! This is important!"

Hermione scribbled a few notes on a pad. "What do you suppose they're talking about?"

"There's no way of knowing. Maybe Harry will have some ideas? Where is he, anyway? He's been gone over an hour! It's nearly dark and not one of us has had any dinner yet."

Ron's eyes lit up at the thought of dinner. "Maybe you should go get us some sandwiches? I don't think Harry's bought any dishes yet."

"Oh,I _me_ _/I_again? Is there something wrong with your legs? You can't walk over there yourself? Or maybe your arms are broken?"

"I just thought—"

"Well you thought I_wrong._ _/I_I'm not your mother, Ronald, and just because I'm female, it doesn't mean I'm in charge of dinner."

"Yes, Hermione."

Hermione glared at him.

"In that case, why don't you come with me? You can do all the ordering and I can carry everything back. You know what Harry and I like better than I do."

"_That's_ better." Hermione turned off all the devices as Sara and Draco had gone by then, and followed Ron out of the X closet, warding the door behind them. "Let's go then. I'm I_starving." /I_

* * *

"Can I go home?"

"I'd prefer that you stay until morning."

"Why? There's nothing wrong with me. You said so yourself! Look, I'm up and walking around!"

"Just for observation."

Christina sighed, and her eyes caught sight of her vase of mystery roses. "Fine. One more night. By the way, where do I live?"

"I'll have someone write everything down for you. Have you remembered anything?"

"Not really. I'm still trying to focus on my last memory of the pizza shop. Whoever was sitting in that doorway, he was a man and he had expensive shoes."

"Did you speak to him?"

"I'm sure I did. I'd just made up my mind to when the memory goes blank," Christina chuckled, "Could this be my benefactor?"

"Were they the sort of shoes Liam Gallagher wears?"

"They're more Noel-ish."

The doctor laughed and then lowered his voice to a confidential tone. "There's time to figure it out. Don't forget what I told you. Write it all down and keep that notebook I_top secret. /I_ I'm not kidding about that. Don't leave it out where a maid could find it. Don't show it to friends."

Christina again got the impression that he knew something he wasn't telling her, but also sensed that he was taking a risk, even saying as little as he had. There was more to her memory loss than he let on, and Christina got the feeling that, whatever it was, it was worrisome. "I won't show it to anyone. I promise."

"Are you sure you don't need your pain shot?"

Christina was quick to whisper in his ear, keeping her voice as low as possible. I_"Am I in danger?"_

"_I'm not sure." /I_

"I told you, the pain is gone. I don't need the shot, but thanks."

"Good night, Christina. I'll see you bright and early."

"Night, Doc."

* * *

Sara pounded on the door of Harry's shop for the third time. When no one answered, she pulled the hood of her cloak closer and stepped into the drizzle to peer in the windows. The office was empty. The lights were off upstairs and Sara was exasperated. "The locator says he's home, but he must not be here. Come on, Draco, we'll have to try the house."

Sara and Draco disappeared.

* * *

Hermione cracked the door at the top of the stairs and poked her head into the darkness. "Harry? Are you alright?"

A voice, shaky, small, and childlike, came from the bedroom. "Not really."

Hermione made her way through the shadows and lowered onto the bed where Harry lay, crumpled and sniffling. Her voice was a whisper of comfort as her hand brushed the hair back from his face. Her fingers came away wet. "Oh Harry. Everything will be ok. You just wait and see. Sara loves you."

"I've made a terrible mistake!"

"Come here."

Harry sat up and savored the relief he felt in her embrace. The misery had been building in him until he thought he might be consumed by it and such human compassion softened the edges, leaving only a hard core of guilt and sadness that could never be erased.

"Ron and I will take care of everything downstairs. You don't have to work tonight."

"I thought I could do it, but every time I think about it… I can't just carry on as if nothing's happened."

"Maybe, in the morning, you can try again. It will be hard for awhile, but you just have to keep getting out of bed every day."

"I don't think I'll be down tomorrow, either." Hermione released him and Harry fell onto the pillow, listless.

"Nonsense. I'll come in at eight and I'll bring breakfast. It will be just like old times, Harry. We'll talk more then."

"I don't really feel like eating. You don't understand."

"Maybe not completely, but I know _you_ and I can see that you're devastated. I understand the misery I see in your eyes and that's all that matters. We're your best friends, Harry. We'll be here for you. I won't stand by and watch you fall head first into apathy again. I won't let that happen. We'll have breakfast in the morning. You have to go on with your life."

"I just want to lay here. That's all. Right now that's my life."

Hermione sighed. "I know, Harry, but you can't. Malfoy and his Death Eaters won't wait for you to feel better. Ron and I will give you plenty of space, but we need you. Please don't leave us to figure this out on our own." Hermione leaned over and kissed his forehead, then smoothed back his hair with a gentle hand. "I'll see you in the morning."

* * *

"He isn't here! Draco, what are we going to do?"

"What about the Weasels?"

"The locator says they're at work, but it still claims Harry is _Home._ He must be asleep. We'll have to go back to Diagon Alley and bang on the door until he wakes up. This can't wait until morning." Sara touched the port key and they were again standing on his step in Diagon Alley. "Look! The lights are back on! _Come on!"_

Sara pounded on the door with urgency, waited only a moment, and then pounded louder and harder. "Harry!" she yelled, "It's important!"

Hermione pulled the door open, scowling at the rude and intrusive manner in which Sara had knocked, but her expression did a complete reversal when she saw who it was. "Sara!" Hermione gave her a short, brisk hug, and pulled her over the threshold. "Harry's upstairs."

"Get him, Hermione! The worst has happened!"

Ron appeared through the door of the X closet, saw Draco, and disappeared again.

Sara ran to the base of the stairs, yanked the door open, and shouted up to him with panic in her voice. "Harry! I_Harry!_ _/I_Get up! Hurry, Harry, something terrible has happened!"

Ron and Hermione were at her sides while Malfoy watched from the mat.

"Sara, what is it?"

"Are you alright?"

Harry came through the door at the top and sprinted down the stairs, tying the belt of a heavy bathrobe. "Sara! What's the matter? Are you ok?" His arms were around her as soon as he reached the bottom, and Sara clung to him for a moment, then stepped away as she burst into tears.

Her voice became choked by emotion, manic, and frightened. She looked from Harry to Hermione and Ron. "I don't know what to do! Harry's book was I_stolen!_ _/I_The Death Eaters have it and now they can find them all! The worst part is that they've had it for I_days!" /I_

"Harry's spell book was I_stolen?"_ _/I_

"That's impossible!"

"Sara, you're not making any sense!"

"I don't NEED to make sense! It's I_gone/I_ and that's all that matters! We have to _do_ something other than stand around in shock and disbelief!"

Harry stepped forward. "We can't let them get the other books. If they could get to mine, the most heavily protected of all, then the others will be no problem for them. We need to act within the next thirty seconds."

"Mine's still at the Burrow. Hermione's is at our house. Sara? Where's yours?"

"In my tower at Hogwarts."

Draco stepped forward. "All three of you actually hid them in your houses? That's stupid! I mean really! When I had to steal one, it took me all of ten minutes! Don't you ever learn? How could you be so reckless? SoI _careless_? _/I_At least Sara had some sense."

Harry scowled. "What's I_he_ _/I_doing here? Sara, this isI _our_ _/I_business, not his."

Sara stammered over a reply and sighed in frustration. There was no way to explain it. "It's a long story and those thirty seconds are running out. I'll tell you later, but suffice it to say that he has to stay with me. Can weI _please/I_ just get to the other books? Draco knows they exist."

"It seems I'm not the only one who knows about them. Voldemort learned of their existence right after you made them! I_One of you/I_ has a problem keeping secrets."

Ron stepped forward. "And how do we know it wasn't _you_, Malfoy?"

Harry came to stand next to Ron, who was glaring at Draco. "At least he doesn't have the passwords, or I'm sure Voldemort would already be back in power."

Hermione took in a sharp breath. "But he does! Draco _does_ know the passwords! He heard us say them the night of the battle!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I think, instead of blaming everything on me, we should I_maybe/I_ be securing the other three books? Just a suggestion."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "We'll be continuing this conversation soon. As for the books, let's all split up and get our own, then meet back here as soon as we have them. At that point we'll worry about all this other stuff."

Sara wiped her eyes, trying to regain her composure. "I just want to know that they're safe. That's all I care about right now. Everyone please come straight back as soon as you have them."

Hermione hugged her. "Sara, this is I_not/I_ your fault. Don't worry. They're safe. I'm sure of it!"

Sara kissed her cheek and tried to smile.

Harry hugged her again, this time with haste. "Everything will be alright. I promise."

Ron and Hermione were already gone. Sara kissed Harry's cheek as well and turned back toward the door. "Come, Draco. We go to Hogwarts."

* * *

151


	13. Chapter 13: Under Cover of Darkness

The Girl in the Tower 2: Seasons of Discontent Ch 13: Under Cover of Darkness

**Part Two: Be Here Now**

_**The **__**G**__**irl in the Tower 2: **_

_**Seasons **__**of**__** Discontent**_

_**C**__**ha**__**p**__**ter 13: Much Ado about Malfoy Part 2;**_

_**Under Cover of Darkness**_

It didn't feel right, sitting around in the midst of such alarming events. Waiting, idle, while everyone else scrambled to secure the other books. Harry sighed as he leaned against his desk, wishing there was something more he could do. Even Draco was involved, having gone with Sara in Harry's place. Draco was still visibly ill, he hadn't written any of the books, and it was really none of his business, yet even _he_ had a part to play. Harry felt useless as jealousy invaded him full force, and accepted his role of disinvolvement. He could do nothing except await their return.

Hermione and Ron were the first to return, coming through the door a few seconds apart, both frantic and speaking too fast to be intelligible.

"Slow down! One at a time!"

Hermione had tears in her eyes as she stepped forward, glancing first at Ron and then Harry. "Our house wais ransacked. Everything was turned upside-down. Every drawer was open; everything we own is on the floor, and… the book… Harry, Ron, I don't know how to say this, but my book is gone. It was locked in a secret compartment in the hutch, and they took the whole thing!"

"Mine was gone, too. Mum and Dad were on the floor when I got there."

"Are they alright?"

"They are now, but when I find whoever hexed my parents, they'll wish they'd thought twice about that one! Dad said someone came to the door, but he has no memory of what happened after that. Their memories have been altered."

Hermione gasped. "But only the ministry can do that!"

"Not always. Remember Professor Lockhart?"

"Oh yeah. I guess others could have learned how to do it, but to erase only isolated memories… it's very difficult. You need more than just know-how. Whoever it was, they knew what they were doing, and they had access to the ministry. Only the ministry has the necessary instruments. They're highly illegal."

"True. Lockhart tried to use _obliviate."_

"Yes, that erases _everything_. It's sloppy and rather barbaric. Erasing a single memory, or a string of them, is like searching for a needle in a haystack. It has to be precise. Whoever did it was a trained professional."

"So the ministry is after our books?"

"Not necessarily. Weren't we just discussing corruption and the possibility that someone's strong-arming Smidgeon? I'll bet it's just one person, or a small group of people, not the entire ministry. If they can scare the minister, couldn't they do the same to a modifier?"

Harry threw an inkwell across the room and bellowed with rage. _"How could we let this happen?!!_ Didn't we promise Dumbledore that we'd guard those books with our lives? We're so _stupid!_"

"There's still Sara's, and I'm afraid to say that Draco was right. He stole Ron's with no problem and none of us learned from that. We put them right back in our houses, thinking every Death Eater was locked away in the safety of Azkaban. We were over-confident, and yes, Harry. We were _beyond_ stupid. This is our own fault. Our only hope is Sara. At least she hid hers in one of the safest places in the wizarding world. McGonagall knows it's there, and we all know she would never let anyone near it."

The three of them shared a long moment, anxious, knowing there was only that one single shred of hope remaining. They clung to it, even though Harry's eyes betrayed the fact that he thought Sara's book was gone. He could feel it. Whether his dread came from Sara, or from his own fears, remained a mystery.

Ron glanced at his watch. "Where is Sara, anyway?"

Hermione realized how much time had passed and clenched her hands. "Harry, what's taking her so long? Ron took the time to speak to Arthur and Molly, and I even searched around for clues and we _still_ got back first! This is ridiculous, what could they possibly be doing at a time like this?"

Ron narrowed his eyes with Draco in mind. "None of us should be slacking off right now."

Harry felt anger surge within him and came to her defense. "Sara was the one who insisted everyone come right back. You saw how upset she was. She may have run into trouble, but it would take us so long to get to Hogwarts that we're better off waiting."

"But Harry, don't you have a port key?"

"I gave the one that went between the house and the school to McGonagall when I stopped teaching. We thought it best after all that happened. Sara has the only one."

"You can apparate into the chamber we used to attack Voldemort, can't you?"

"Dumbledore closed it, since he'd had to unblock so many people. I'd be stuck in there until I chose the poison."

"Then what do we do?"

"We wait, I guess. Don't worry. Sara can handle herself. She'll show up."

Ron had taken to pacing before the windows, glancing out with each pass. "It wouldn't surprise me if Draco waited until he found the book, cursed her, and stole it. She's probably on the floor of the tower as we speak."

Harry's hands began to shake. "I should have made him wait here with me. WHY did I let her take him to Hogwarts?"

"Ron! Don't say things like that! Harry's worried enough as it is and there's nothing we can do!"

Ron sighed and turned apologetic eyes to Harry. "Sorry, mate."

"S'ok, Ron. It's our nature to think the worst of him. Hermione's right, though. I _am_ worried. It's not like Sara to leave us hanging and she was so _intent_ on coming straight back. I wish I knew what's keeping her," he glanced at his wrist, "The locator says she's traveling. That could mean any number of things; however, it isn't on mortal peril."

Hermione laid a caring hand on his shoulder. "That's reassuring. I'm sure she's ok, Harry. She's probably on her way back right now. Besides, you'd know it if she was in trouble. Let's just sit tight and wait for her. In the meantime, the three of us will try to figure this out. We need to be prepared in case Sara returns without her book."

* * *

Three clockwise turns of the paddle, a dash of powdered eye of newt, and four counter-clockwise rotations. Now all there was to do was wait. It was a volatile potion, easily ruined by the _slightest_ miscalculation. Sometimes, for no apparent reason. Maybe the fire is too hot, or not hot enough. A batwing fly might be too big or too small. Magitite particles had to be counted by hand, and if he was off by even one, tiny as fairy dust was, the potion would be rendered useless. This wouldn't do. Draco had to remain well enough to gain Sara's ultimate favor if things were to go according to plan, and so Snape measured every ingredient with nothing sort of absolute precision.

He'd begun the potion three days before, and at night. This was fortunate, now that classes were in session. It was easier to spend time locked away in his lab when the students weren't around to disturb him. The last thing he needed was an unwelcome distraction while counting out the four hundred particles of magitite the potion required every twenty-four hours. With such a possibility in mind, Snape made sure to count out piles of one hundred, recount them three times, and store them in vials for ease of measuring.

The disturbances were mounting in number ever since Minerva had left the school without notice, leaving him to play deputy headmaster. He'd instructed all students to take concerns to their house prefects, who in turn would take them to their heads of house before those teachers brought insignificant problems to him to deal with. Of course, the Hogwarts populace was incapable of following simple instructions.

Snape glanced at the door of his lab, upon which someone was banging in a rather obnoxious manner, and realized he had just lost count. _Again._

* * *

"Harry! It's an owl!"

Harry hurried to the window to admit the jet-black bird. It gave an annoyed hoot and threw the parchment at him.

Ron considered the bird, and then turned to Harry. "Hey, isn't that Snape's owl?"

Hermione scowled, irritated. "Must be. They seem to have the same nasty disposition, after all."

"Why's Snape writing to Harry?"

Harry glanced up from his letter. "It's from Sara. She was in a rush; this is so hard to read… Her book is gone. McGonagall was found in the tower. She's been hurt and they've taken her to St. Mungo's. Sara says she'll be here as soon as they find out if she's going to make it."

Hermione gasped. "Oh no! McGonagall's so old and she hasn't been the same since she was cursed in 5th year. Harry, Ron, let's get over there. This is terrible!"

Ron was furious. "Really, what sort of person would curse an old woman?"

"Probably the same person who hexed your parents. Ten galleons say she tried to stop them from stealing the book."

"I wonder how long she laid there like that? Sara said Harry's book has been gone for days, and she never goes to the tower anymore." Hermione dropped into the nearest chair and cried into a tissue. "Poor McGonagall. This whole situation just keeps getting worse."

Ron went to her side and laid a hand on her shoulder. "I have a feeling it isn't over yet. The bad news just keeps coming! They'll release Voldemort next."

"But they need the keys!"

Harry sighed and dropped the quill he was destroying. "Another ten galleons say they already have them. Hermione, I think you were right on about Draco. If I were a Malfoy, I would never forget the passwords that hold the Dark Lord, or the spell to open the crux cube. Highly valuable information, if you ask me."

Ron slammed his hand down on the desk, startling Hermione. "We should have let Voldemort kill him when we had the chance!"

"Ron, as much as I loathe him, we don't actually know that he's done anything wrong."

Hermione sighed. "Right, Harry. We're in a bad situation and we're jumping to conclusions."

All three jumped and shared a bewildered glance when four quick raps sounded on the door. Ron and Hermione drew their wands and held their breath as Harry walked to the entrance. He peered through the spy hole at two shady figures, hidden by black cloaks in the darkness. Their hoods left their faces in shadow.

"Who's there?"

"Official business, Mr. Potter."

"What do you want?"

"Just let us in and be quick about it. We can't be seen here."

"You don't look like ministry officials."

The voice was low as the older of the two men spoke through the heavy wood. "Just open the door."

"I think not. Tell me your business first."

"Draco Malfoy."

The lock slid back. The two men stepped into the office as though they made a habit of sneaking around. They removed their robes before they spoke and, to Harry's surprise, both men wore sharp black suits and stylish fedora hats, complete with feather. The taller one laid his cloak across Ron's shoulder without so much as a glance, as if Ron was a coat tree, and glanced from Harry to Hermione.

"You're much smaller than I expected."

Hermione lifted her chin, indignant. "Size has nothing to do with intelligence or ability."

The second wizard stepped forward, tossing his cloak at Ron and giving Hermione an approving once-over. "Indeed."

The first man stepped forward and indicated his companion. "My partner, Swan McGee. I'm SteveD3. Pleased to make your acquaintance Mr. Potter, Miss Granger."

"Actually, I'm Mrs. Weasley."

Ron sneered. "Hey, what about me?"

"Who might you be?"

"I'm Ron Weasley! How can you know _them_ and not know _me?"_

Swan McGee pulled an enormous clipboard from a rather tiny pocket and the two men conferred, flipping through many sheets of parchment, shaking their heads and murmuring.

Ron dropped the cloaks he held onto a chair. "What's that list? What are you looking at?"

Swan McGee slipped the clipboard back into the tiny pocket. "You're not on our list. We have an Arthur, Bill, Charlie, and a Molly Weasley, but no Ron."

"That's my brothers and my parents! I must be on the list! I'm a secret auror with the Wizard Defense League! Department of Planning and Strategy!"

Harry crossed his arms, angry. "He's my best friend and business partner."

"And he's _my_ husband!"

Steve raised an amused eyebrow at Ron. _"Secret_ auror, eh?"

Swan chuckled. "How secret, since you're telling everyone about it?"

"Oh shove off, the both of you." Ron turned bright red, embarrassed and flustered. "What is that list anyway?"

"The leaders and other significant contacts for the Light side. Your friends top the list, that's why we're here. I'm sorry, whomever you are, but I'll have to place you under a silencing ward until we get clearance to speak to you. Just a bit of red tape. You understand, being a _secret_ auror and all."

Swan sniggered and turned his head away to hide his amusement.

"How do I know you won't trap me and kill my friends?"

"Do you really think so highly of yourself?"

Hermione and Harry burst out laughing and Ron scowled.

"If we were going to kill anyone, we'd have done it already. Do we have your consent for the ward, or are we just wasting our time? This is official business, top secret, and we'll prove it to these other two as soon as we can get on with it." SteveD3 glanced at his watch and sighed with impatience. Swan, who seemed a bit young to be on official business, simply stood off his partner's shoulder and looked serious.

Ron looked to Harry and Hermione to make the decision. Harry hesitated only a moment. "Just so you know, we'll tell him everything as soon as you leave."

"It's a technicality, Potter. Tell him whatever you want; as long as he doesn't hear it from us, there will be no repercussions."

"Fine then."

Steve cast a spell over Ron, and then both he and Swan flipped open credentials for Harry and Hermione to inspect.

Hermione was surprised. "You're from Buckingham Palace?"

Steve returned the leather fold to an inner pocket. "We're wizards, if that's what you were wondering. The ministry keeps a small office at Buckingham Palace and also at Scotland Yard, to liaison with the Queen for the protection of important muggles. She and the Prime Minister are the only ones who know our true nature. To others we are sort of a secret service, which allows us to keep a low profile."

Harry was incredulous. "The _Queen of England_ sent you to my shop?"

"In a sense. She acted on advice from the Minister of Magic, Julian Smidgeon."

"Why would the queen be interested in Draco Malfoy?"

"She isn't. In fact, she has no idea who he is, or who you are, for that matter. She was told only that there was a sinister plot afoot. As this poses a major threat to muggle lives, such as her own, she urged us to get to the bottom of it."

"Why wouldn't Smidgeon handle this himself?"

"He is, in a way, since he is in charge of our office. There is a fair amount of corruption in the ministry, Mr. Potter. It wasn't safe for him to discuss this with anyone else. He gave me your names and said you could help.

Swan held out a scroll.

Steve continued. "A letter from Smidgeon. I suggest you both read it at once before it self-destructs."

Harry and Hermione scanned the short document, which explained almost nothing, only assured them of the validity of the agents, and asked for their cooperation on this "sensitive matter."

Harry dropped the scroll as it went up in a puff of flame and smoke, drifting to the floor in a scattering of ash. Hermione drew her wand and cleared the mess with a silent flick.

Harry set his eyes on Steve once again. "You said this had to do with Malfoy. We're listening."

"First I need to know… Is he a friend of yours? I must ask, as I was told not to approach your wife with this."

"Sara's friends with him, and I'd have to agree with whoever told you that. She's definitely on our side, but it's best not to approach the subject of Malfoy with her. As for me, he's a personal pain in the arse, to be quite honest. We're far from friends. I despise him, but I probably like him ten times more than Ron and Hermione."

Ron turned bright red and scowled. "Malfoy's got it for Harry's wife!"

Harry and Hermione shot surprised glances at Ron, who shouldn't be able to hear a word they were saying.

Steve cleared his throat with a frown.

Ron, realizing the agent was only pretending to follow procedure and was actually allowing him to listen in, closed his mouth and returned to his chair.

"Malfoy's up to something. It has come to our attention that he's been purchasing large quantities of fog vials for the past year or so. Normally, this is no cause for concern as they are regulated. There is a limit on how many the average wizard can buy, and all licensed establishments must submit a list of transactions to the ministry each month. However, acting on an anonymous tip," he winked at Hermione, "the various records were cross-checked and it was discovered that Malfoy has been receiving the allotment from every shop in the UK that sells them. Doing so is, in fact, against the law. A further check revealed that several others of similar notoriety had taken up the same illegal practice some months ago."

"Then why hasn't he been arrested?"

"Or even questioned?"

"Because we want to know what they're planning and we want to know who's involved. However, time is of the essence. This morning, an owl was intercepted that leads us to believe they plan to act soon."

Harry took a deep breath. "We've had Malfoy followed, we have pictures, and we're… uh… we've got spying eyes inside his house."

Steve and Swan sat back in unison, shocked and impressed. "Excellent!"

Hermione hesitated. "But there's more."

"And it's bad."

"We've only just now learned that the… _devices_ we used to secure Voldemort have been stolen."

Both agents sat bolt upright. "STOLEN!"

"It gets worse."

"Malfoy knows the passwords and the spell to open the holding cell."

"Has the minister been informed?"

"Not yet. As Hermione said, we've only just found out within the past half-hour. We were about to discuss the situation when you knocked on the door."

"This changes everything." Steve and Swan stood. "We will need to confer with Smidgeon at once. We may need no further help from you, as Malfoy will likely be arrested within the hour. We will be in touch. Good evening Potter, Miss Granger." Steve gave a curt nod and Swan smiled at Hermione. The bubble around Ron disappeared and the cloaks flew out the door behind the agents as they slipped back into the cover of night.

* * *

Sara paced the tower roof in rapt contemplation and Draco watched her from a nearby chair. Sara had bound him to it, saying she had to act in a manner in which all three of the others would approve. She'd said it wasn't personal, but Draco still felt the devastation of her distrust. Something ached in his chest, as if the ferret that lived inside it twisted in anguish and, the worst part of it all was that he couldn't clear his name. Draco knew the missing memories were crucial to this latest dilemma and he could only hope the veritaserum Snape was bringing would unlock the mystery.

The scene played over and over in his mind. He'd nearly collapsed when Sara had thrown the box at him and her shouted words still echoed in his ears: _I won't cover for you! _He sighed in the darkness and his heart ached with phantom regret as Sara stopped her pacing and tipped her head as she looked at him. A sure sign that she was considering, or perhaps reflecting, on some aspect of him. Draco did his best to smile, but the attempt only fell away to sadness. He lowered his eyes and closed them.

Draco was surprised when she spoke with a gentle tone and it reminded him of her voice when it carried on the wind, soft and ethereal. "Your hair turns a luminous silver in the moonlight."

Draco raised his eyes to her once more and this time he managed a little bit of a smile. "So does yours."

"You have a white, glowing halo. I don't know if it's a sign or a trick of the light."

"You have one, too. It makes you look like an angel I've always thought."

"_Yes,_ that's it exactly."

"What else do you see when you look at me, Sara? Do you see a person who would hurt you in any way?"

"I see someone who has many layers, Draco, layers that range in every shade from Light to Dark. Do I think that you're guilty of this crime? No, I don't, but I know that you're capable of it. I know that all too well. I expect that there's another explanation, but until it's discovered, I have to respect the standards Harry, Ron, or Hermione would set in my place. I'm sorry Draco. Severus will be here soon and we can get this all sorted out."

"I've stayed with you all this time, haven't I? If I was going to run away, I'd have done it prior to visiting Potter and the Weasels."

Sara sighed in resignation. "True. It's just a precaution, as I said, and not my decision to make, but I suppose you're right. However, I can't unbind you at this moment in time. Please stop trying to make me feel guilty. I feel bad enough as it is and it won't change anything."

"Am I going to be arrested?"

"I don't know. Have you done something worthy of Azkaban?"

"I have no idea! You know they messed with my memories, and I think they made me steal that book. How am I supposed to prove it?"

"We'll try the veritaserum. Let's not dwell on the consequences until then. There's no point in it."

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one who's _tied to a chair."_

Sara sighed, exasperated. "Enough already! I refuse to explain it all again! I'll be in enough trouble with Harry when he finds out that I knew you took his book and didn't tell them. Ron and Hermione are going to kill me!"

"Sara, I need you to listen to me. _I can't go to Azkaban."_

"Yes, I know it's a frightening place, but if you did something wrong, I can't cover for you. I hope you understand that. I'll _fight_ for you, Draco, but I won't lie for you."

"You're the only friend I have. You can't let them take me to prison. I don't mean that I don't want to go, or I don't think I'd like it there, I'm saying I CAN'T go, do you understand?"

"What are you talking about?"

"If you let them take me to Azkaban, you'll never see me again."

Sara grinned. "I'll know right where to find you."

"THIS IS _SERIOUS!!"_

"Draco, what are you trying to tell me? You're hiding something and I want to know what it is. I'll make you no promises otherwise."

"I can't tell you."

"Is this the secret Nikolae spoke of?"

"He _told you_ I had a secret? Remind me to never trust those _filthy_ blood suckers."

"He wouldn't tell me what it was; he said only that you would hurt me. He begged me to stay away from you."

"_The nerve!_ He was lying to you! I won't hurt you, Sara. I swear on my life that I won't. Please don't believe him. He said the same thing to me, you know. He kept carrying on about Harry and told me to leave you alone."

"And the secret? Was he lying about that?"

"No, he wasn't, and I wish he hadn't seen it in my mind. It wasn't his to know, Sara, yet he went ahead and made himself privy to my thoughts anyway. I'm surprised you haven't done the same. You can learn all that I know about the theft, and you could uncover my secret. You're an accomplished leglimens, and occlumency was never my specialty. What's keeping you?"

"Nikolae doesn't have the control I have. He hears random thoughts, sees random images, whether he wants to or not. That only happens to me when I touch someone, and sometimes not even then. He can't help what he learns, Draco, so please don't think badly of him. He wouldn't tell me what your secret was, and his warning was one of concern. As for why I won't force your thoughts? That's easy. I must respect the privacy of others for one thing. For two, I promised Nikolae that I wouldn't, and for three, you'll tell me if you want me to know. It upsets me that you refuse, but it's still your right to do so."

"Good answer."

Sara turned as movement caught her eye in the darkness. "Severus is here."

"Good. Will you untie me now? It's not as if I can apparate anyway. We're at Hogwarts after all."

Sara cast him a sidelong glance, growing irritated. She turned her attention to Snape, who now hurried through the doors to her old rooms and across the roof. "Severus! What's wrong?"

Snape held out the port-key Sara had lent him and dropped it into her hand. _"What's wrong?_ I'll _tell you_ what's wrong! I went to the manor to get Draco's potions and the house is crawling with _ministry officials!"_

Sara and Draco came alive at once and in unison. "WHAT!?"

Snape turned to Draco. "You've been _indicted_, you idiot!"

"But I thought only you and Sara knew about Aunt Bella and Harry's book!"

"The charges stem from your fog vial collection. Did you _really_ get the allotment from every shop in the UK?"

Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath, hoping it would hold him together. "It was the only way, sir. I needed far more than I could get, and it _still_ wasn't enough. I was going through them so quickly! They were wasted of course. I couldn't ever seem to get the potion right. I managed a weak version a few times, and only brewed a flawless batch just last week! I _had_ to buy them in every shop! I needed far more than only twenty a week!"

Snape glanced at Sara and gave Draco a warning glance, as Draco was giving too much away. "_Whatever _your reason, I'm afraid you'll be brought before the Wisengamut if they find you. Draco, you can't go home. Not even for a change of clothes. You can't go to Gringott's for funds. You can't use your credit, or your name, to pay for food or lodging. You can't go anyplace they might think to look for you."

Sara was incredulous. "Are you _honestly_ suggesting he should run from the law?"

"Yes."

"Severus, you _are_ aware that I'm a certified auror. I'm obligated to turn him in. It's just an infraction! I could lose my title over this!"

Snape spun on her with fear and urgency in his eyes. _"You'll do nothing of the kind! _When, may I ask, did you become so _selfish?_ The person you _used to be_ would be _far_ more interested in the well-being of a friend than some idiotic _title,_ especially a title of such little worth! You don't work as an auror and you never will! Sara, if you care about Draco the _slightest_ bit, you'll use your considerable skills to _protect_ him."

"Protect him from what? Perhaps the two of you should explain what all this is about? I will not risk my good standing, and Harry's good name, on blind faith. I need to know why he needed all of these _blasted_ vials!"

Draco tried to get up and found he was still bound to the chair. "I can't tell you. All I can say is that I needed them in the most desperate of ways. Please believe me, Sara."

Snape stepped between her and Draco's chair. "Sara, do you trust me?"

"You know I do, but asking me to break the law without explanation is asking a _lot_, Severus. As I said, the charge is merely an infraction. I suspect he's in more trouble than you let on and I need to know why."

Snape brought a small vial from his robe and turned his disappointed gaze from Sara to Draco. "The serum, Draco. Are you certain you wish to do this?"

Draco turned bitter, saddened eyes to Sara. "I'm beginning to think there's no point in it, but yes. Perhaps I can convince her that I'm not this vile, evil person she seems to think I am, worthy of _prison_ and abject distrust. Maybe she'll realize that she didn't need to tie me to a bloody chair."

"I _TOLD YOU_ why!"

Snape glanced at her askance. "Evidently, it wasn't a good enough reason."

Draco opened his mouth and allowed Snape to place a few drops of the potent veritaserum onto his tongue.

Snape waited a few moments for it to take effect, and then pulled up a chair to face him. "What is your greatest fear?"

"Butterflies," Draco turned bright red, "Don't ask me things like that! How embarrassing!"

"We need to know that the serum is working, Draco. Just a few more and then we'll get on with it. What is your greatest flaw?"

"Cowardice. Sir! I object to these questions!"

"What is the one thing you love the most?"

"Sara." Draco's eyes flew to Sara in a panic, his face growing pale with the humiliation of his own blurted admissions. His eyes squeezed shut as he tried to fight off the effects of the serum; sorry that he'd subjected himself to such humiliation.

Sara smiled.

"Did you steal Potter's spellbook?"

"I don't know."

"Did you steal the other books?"

"I don't know."

"Have you been working for someone else?"

"I don't know."

Snape sighed. "Sara, this is getting us nowhere."

Sara stepped forward. "Is Sylvia a friend of yours?"

"No. I despise her."

Snape cringed.

"Has she written to you recently?"

"I think so. It's hard to remember."

Snape perked up. "Did you get a letter from her the day before the dinner party?"

Draco hesitated. "I don't recall a letter, but I do remember feeling annoyed with her that day. I wanted her to leave me alone."

Snape looked at Sara. "I know she wrote to him. She sent the letter in front of me."

Sara's resolve softened. "Draco, are you, or were you, involved in a plot with Sylvia and/or your Aunt Bellatrix?"

"Not that I know of."

"Are you fond of your Aunt Bellatrix?"

"I hate her."

"Would you help her if she was hurt?"

"Probably not."

"What did Bellatrix say to you in that room at the Houndstooth?"

"_Imperious!"_

"What happened next?"

"I don't remember."

"Has your memory been modified?"

"Yes."

"Oh dear, Severus, he has no idea what he's done."

"We have ninety seconds before the potion wears off."

Sara took a deep breath. "Draco? If your Aunt Bellatrix tried to hurt me, would you kill her?"

"Yes."

"Why did you need the fog vials?"

Snape shot to his feet. "SARA! How _dare_ you! We just said he _couldn't tell you!"_

Draco's pained, mumbled reply went unheard beneath Snape's shouted response.

"I'm sorry. One last question. Draco, would you ever hurt me?"

"No."

Snape counted down on his watch. "That's it. Time's up."

Sara reached out with her mind and felt the potion's influence leave him. Her eyes were pained as she looked at her friend, her expression somber. "You are unbound."

Draco stood and watched her with nervous eyes, hoping something he'd said may have helped.

Sara sighed and looked to him with apologetic eyes. "I believe you, Draco. I'm sorry you had to go through all that. However, I still want to know what all this is about before I agree to anything."

Snape cleared his throat. "He can't stay here, Sara. It wasn't just fog vials. They also spoke of the spell books. Potter and his friends are convinced that Draco knows the passwords and also knew the approximate location of Harry's book. He's the prime suspect at the moment, and so they plan to hold him indefinitely, until the crime has been solved. Being that Draco has the Dark Mark and the fact that he actually _did_ steal Potter's book, whether or not he remembers it, they'll never let him out of Azkaban."

"No! It can't be! Severus, we can convince them! We know the truth!"

"They'll call us both liars and you know it! They'll even go so far as to say we were in on it! They're already suspicious of me after I popped into Lucius' study and went straight to the potions lab. Look at me, Sara. I need you to trust me now more than you ever have before. Draco _cannot_ go to Azkaban, and we can't tell you why. Not yet, anyway."

"Then take him with you!"

"I have classes to teach, in case you forgot! With Minerva in the hospital, there's no way I can leave the school, especially since the Minister ordered me not to. Not even to go to Hogsmeade! I can't hide him here; he can't go to my house. They'll find him, Sara. You're his only hope. You must leave together right now and you can't go to your house, or to Christina's house. You can't go to your shop. Sara, _listen to me._ You _must_ get him out of England and you have to do it _now."_

"But… I only have thirteen galleons on me! I mean, we at least need to pack a few things!"

"You will go with the clothes on your backs. Here are five more galleons. It's all I have on me."

Sara stood in silent shock as the reality of the situation set in; staring at the money Snape had placed in her hand.

Draco wavered on his feet. "Sir, please tell me you got the remedies from my house."

"I was able to pocket the two doses you had left. As for _what you were brewing,_ I cleared the caldrons before they could take it to be analyzed."

Draco closed his eyes and sighed his relief. "Thank you, sir."

"Use those two doses when you need them most, Draco. It will be several days before I can get you more."

To Sara's surprise, Snape stepped forward and hugged Draco, who burst into tears on his shoulder. "Everything will be all right, Draco. We won't let anything happen to you."

Draco pulled away and wiped his eyes, putting his back to Sara so she wouldn't see. "What if--"

"_Do not_ write unless the news is dire. Your owl will be intercepted, be sure of it. Now go. Do not tell me where."

Sara put a hand on Draco's shoulder and could feel the fever raging through his cloak. "Do you still have that port key? The one you had when we wanted new clothes?"

Draco searched through many inside pockets before withdrawing a tiny box. He held it out to Sara.

Sara took it and turned her gaze back to Snape.

"_Go,_ Sara! You know they'll come here!"

Sara was frightened as she put her arms around Draco and disappeared.

* * *

SteveD3 came flying out the door of the X closet on the wheels of Hermione's chair, coming to a dead stop before hitting the wall. "Interesting developments Potter. Severus Snape just cleared the contents of the cauldrons in Malfoy's potions lab. I replayed it several times, and I'm sure that he palmed something just as the aurors found him. Looks like we have another player to spy on. What do you think?"

Hermione glanced at Harry, shocked. "Snape will do anything to protect Draco."

Harry nodded his agreement. "True, but how did he know to show up there at such a crucial moment and hide the evidence? Draco must have told him that we knew the books had been stolen."

"And that we were onto them."

"We've been wrong about Snape before, but this time I think he's right in the thick of it." Harry turned his attention to Steve, who awaited his answer. "We need a spy at Hogwarts."

Steve smiled at the idea. "We'll put our heads together and sort through our options just as soon as we deal with the matter of Draco Malfoy. You say he's with your wife and you expect them any minute?"

"She's not my wife anymore and yes."

"You'll have to arrest Malfoy when he arrives and bring him before the ministry. Swan and I can't conduct our business in the public eye if we wish to remain effective."

Harry sank into a chair. "Arrest Malfoy. Sara's going to kill me. Hermione, you're an auror, too. You do it. She won't take it so personally if it's someone other than me."

"We'll just have to make her understand, Harry."

All present started when there came a knock at the door. Harry exchanged a knowing glance with Ron and Hermione, both of whom drew their wands. Steve wheeled himself back onto the X closet, leaving the door open a crack so the two agents could eavesdrop.

Harry was surprised when he opened the door. "What do _you_ want? I have no control over what Sara chooses to do with her shop."

Hawthorn stood on the step, shivering under a thin cloak in the chilly night air. She was swaying a bit and her gaze had lost its intensity. "I have something to tell you, Potter. I've been hearing the voices all day."

"You're drunk! That's Finnegan's Swill I smell!"

"I was so focused on drowning out the voices, that I only just now realized what it all meant."

"Voices? You're mad! What are you talking about?"

"I'm a diviner, remember? Your memory really is total shite, isn't it? Anyway, I've been given a warning. The scene I see is a terrible one, Potter. Buildings are burning, people running, screaming, and you're in the middle of it, holding a dead woman and crying over her."

Hermione flung the door open and shouted at the strange woman on the doorstep. _"How dare you_ worry him with this nonsense! No one cares about the voices in your head, or your morbid fantasies… Sybil isn't it?"

"Hawthorn!"

"Get out of here with your lunacy! Harry has enough on his mind without a bunch of nonsense from a crazy Slytherin!"

Hawthorn turned back to Harry with fear in her eyes. "You're looking in the wrong direction. Check the lists again."

"What are you talking about? What lists? You're not making any sense!"

"Well, I don't know _everything_, you moron! Just check the bloody lists because it's going to happen if you don't change your focus!"

Hermione scowled. "We don't have time for this, goodbye." She slammed the door in Hawthorn's face and pulled Harry back to his desk. "Don't listen to a thing she told you. She wanders around predicting doom all the time and she's usually drunk. No one takes her seriously. She's the official nutcase of Diagon Alley, so to speak."

"But what did she mean by _check the lists again?_ Have we checked any lists that we should be re-checking?"

"No, we haven't. That's my point exactly."

"But she knows that we're investigating something, Hermione. She said we were looking in the wrong direction."

"We're an auror service and you're known for investigating things. She made it up, Harry. Here, let me get you some tea. It's going to be a long night."

* * *

Draco waited beside her with a strange mix of people before hurrying through the crosswalk. On the other side, steam drifted from a steel grate in the dirty sidewalk. Traffic whizzed past as horns blared from the passing cabs and sirens wailed in the distance. "Sara, I don't think I can walk much farther. Can't we get a taxi?"

"We need to save our money, Draco. Besides, I don't know how long it will be before we can change it to muggle dollars. It's only another block. Lean on my shoulder and I'll help you."

Normally, Draco would have argued that he didn't need her help, but he put his arm around her and let her support some of his weight instead. Sara's arms went around his waist and, to the passer-by, they were a smitten couple out for stroll in the night.

"It's just up the way a bit. There, at the end of the street. The house with no lights on."

"Is it a friend of yours?"

"No, Draco. It's my childhood home. It's where my parents were killed. I haven't been here since I was sixteen years old."

"I'm sorry, Sara. I'm sorry you had no other choice. This is all my fault."

"Quiet, Draco. Don't spend your strength speaking. You aren't well."

"I want to take the potion Snape gave me."

"He told you to save it for when you needed it most. You can rest in just a few minutes. We're only three houses away now and if the lift still works, we can take it to the top floor, where my room is."

"I'm dizzy. I'm going to pass out if I don't stop walking. We need to hurry."

"Won't you tell me what's wrong with you?"

"I'll be fine. I just need to lie down for a while. Get me over to the handrail."

Sara walked with him to the far side of the steps and held tight to his waist as they climbed to the landing. She leaned him up against the side of the house, removed many wards, and spoke a password to the doorknocker. Sara laid her hand on the knob and pushed it open. Draco was slipping to the side, and Sara caught him just before he fell over. "Come on. We're here now. Three more minutes, and then you can rest."

Sara looked around at all that she'd left behind so many years ago, and pushed away the memories that tried to invade her mind. The dust matted every surface in the moonlight. The house was peaceful and undisturbed. It was a relief to know that she was probably the last person to walk through the door. No one had been here since, so it was likely to be a good hiding place for a while.

"Light the sconces. It's hard to see."

"We can't. No one can know we're here. I know the way, just hold onto me."

The lift wouldn't respond, and so Sara stepped onto an area rug and levitated it up three flights of stairs and straight into her old room. Dust had gathered on the plastic and Sara had a hard time pulling it aside, but a quick spell pushed the protective sheet to the floor and she eased Draco onto the bed. He moaned as he collapsed onto the pillow and was asleep before she tucked the covers under his chin. She smoothed the hair from his clammy brow, burning with fever, and gave him an anguished smile in the darkness. "I have to leave now. I have to take care of something, but I'll be back within the hour, I promise you."

* * *

Ron sat up straight in his chair. "There you are! Sara, we've been waiting forever!"

Harry said nothing, only looked at her.

Hermione lowered a book to the desk and sighed. "How is McGonagall? Please tell me she'll be alright?"

"She's very ill. She'd been on the roof of the tower for several days, lying there in the rain and the cold. She has pneumonia and, at her age, it can be difficult to cure. She was stable when I left, but there's still no telling. Whoever stole the book put her in a full body bind after they cursed her into unconsciousness."

Ron leapt to his feet. "They were trying to kill her! She's just an old woman!"

"Perhaps. But it gets worse. Minerva always wore the key to Nikolae's room around her neck, as we do, and it's missing. The chain was broken and lying near-by. The port key to our house was also missing from her office, though we don't know if they used the Imperious Curse to make her retrieve it, or if they went for it themselves. We may be able to find out when she wakes up, but ten galleons say she'll have no memory of it. A bogus note was sent to Severus five days ago, claiming to be from Minerva, saying she'd be away from the school for at least a week. He thought nothing of it at the time, but after we discovered her tonight, the note was checked and found to be a forgery."

"But what does it all mean?"

"It means that mine was the first book they stole, not Harry's. Very few people knew where it was, and Draco wasn't one of them, in case you were wondering. They needed the keys to get into our house and to unlock the room, but they couldn't get through the maze and the wards. That's where they needed help."

Silence took over the room and everyone stared at Sara, trying to process everything she'd told them.

"There's something I need to tell the three of you, and I ask that you let me tell it before you interrupt."

With three reluctant nods, Sara related the tale of the dinner party, Sylvia's escape, and told them of Draco's willingness to undergo veritaserum. "His memory has been altered, I swear to you. He wasn't lying. He couldn't have lied, even if he'd wanted to. Besides, I know Draco as well as I know myself. He is innocent of this crime."

Harry pushed to his feet. "And how hard would it be for him to fool you? Honestly, Sara, I can't believe you're trying to push your own opinions of your lousy, Slytherin boyfriend off as fact. We aren't as smitten with him as you are."

Sara was visibly hurt. "He's _not_ my boyfriend, _Harry,_ and they aren't my opinions, they're facts!"

"How do we know Snape didn't give his little pet Malfoy a dose of water instead of veritas? You trust them to a fault, Sara."

"Oh do I? I guess it would surprise you to hear then, that I thought of that as well? I wouldn't put it past Severus to do everything in his power to protect Draco, so I touched Draco's mind with my own, just to make sure the potion was working. It was, I assure you. Draco was in a silent panic when he was asked embarrassing personal questions, but honesty came out of his mouth whether he liked it or not."

"So what did you learn from him?"

"That, whoever is doing this is skilled with memory charms. He remembered practically nothing. Severus watched Sylvia send Draco a letter the other day, yet Draco couldn't recall receiving it. He could only remember being irritated with her and wishing she would leave him alone. Under veritas he claimed to hate her, and he'd said as much before the dinner party. Actually, now that I think about it, Severus told me that Sylvia took Draco off to talk because she wanted Draco to find something for her. They set him up to take the blame for this. The only thing he could remember from their conversation was the word imperious, from his own Aunt Bellatrix. They forced him to do it. I saw it with my own eyes, only I didn't know what they had him steal."

Harry gave her an angry glare. "Sara, I think even _you_ can appreciate how hard this is to swallow. Are we really supposed to believe that sweet little Draco Malfoy is innocent?"

"He's being FRAMED!"

"And you're being played! Sara, you're not a stupid person, so stop falling for it! They've tricked you, can't you see that?"

Sara straightened, and narrowed her eyes at Harry. "No, I'm _not_ stupid, Harry. I never would have brought this to you if I thought for a _second_ that you'd lost all trust in my judgment. Draco is the ultimate patsy, can't you see? No one believes him and that's exactly what they were hoping for. It's _you_ who's being played, not me, and I'm standing here, telling you the honest truth. You're looking in the wrong direction."

Harry was struck dumb by her words, which he was now hearing for the second time.

Hermione stepped forward, knowing what had caught Harry's attention. "Sara, where is Draco now? The ministry's looking for him. If what you say is true, then he should turn himself in. I know things aren't looking very good for him right now, but if he's innocent, we'll clear his name," Hermione glanced at Harry, "We _all_ will."

"Hermione, you know as well as I do that his name will never be clear. All that nonsense Smidgeon said when he gave Draco the medal of heroism was just for show. No Malfoy will ever be trusted. Draco is guilty until proven innocent in their eyes, and we both know that innocent people, like Stan Shunpike, spend years in Azkaban on suspicion alone. As his friend I have to protect him, just as I would protect you or Ron from such persecution."

Harry was incredulous. "you're harboring a fugitive? Sara! If you help him you'll be considered guilty of the same crimes!"

"_Now_ do you understand that I'm not delusional, Harry? I would never risk myself this way if I wasn't one hundred percent certain of his innocence."

Swan stepped out of the closet with his wand raised and pointed at Sara. He smiled and tipped his hat to her. "Good evening, Miss Lemke. I apologize for the interruption—"

Steve appeared behind his partner. "--And for the eavesdropping—"

"—but we'll have to place you under arrest."

"Unless you tell us where Draco Malfoy is hiding."

"Azkaban is no place for such a _lovely_ lady." Swan smiled at Sara again.

Ron bellowed with rage. "You'll _lower your wand_ or you'll deal with me!"

"I assure you, Mr. Whats-your-name, that no harm will come to your friend if she cooperates."

Hermione was incensed and she glared at the agents. "Don't you know _anything?_ Sara's the Elemental! You _can't_ arrest her and you can't take her to Azkaban. Check with the minister, he'll tell you the same thing."

Ron stepped in front of Sara with fists clenched, his knuckles white with anger. "Yeah! Bloody right, so lower your wand, you ignorant git!"

Swan raised an eyebrow in challenge and Ron attacked him in an instant. As the fight raged on the floor of Harry's office, Harry grabbed Sara and ran out the door with her and onto the street.

"Sara, you don't have to turn him in, but stop helping him!"

"I have to! Harry, he needs help and I'm the only one who's willing to help him!"

"If you want to help him, then come back here and help us find the _real_ criminals!"

"Do you think I didn't see the pictures on your desk? You want to _hang_ him, Harry, and it's _personal_."

Harry released Sara's arm and stepped back. "You're damn _right_ it is. He stole my wife, and now he's stolen my book. I'll consider what you said in his defense, but if he's guilty, I'll show him to his cell myself."

"I told you the truth."

"I hope so, for his sake."

Sara looked at Harry for a long moment, and when she spoke, it was with a gentler tone. "He risked his life to help you once. I hope you can find it in your heart to show him the same kindness." With that, Sara disappeared.

Harry returned to his desk, troubled and sullen, as Ron sat in his own chair, holding a cold cloth over his bleeding lip and being tended by Hermione.

Swan sat on the other side of the room, glaring at Ron. His eye was swollen, and he had a bleeding lip of his own. The feather in his hat was broken and stuck out sideways at an odd angle, flopping around when Swan moved his head. "You need to check that temper at the door, _Bob!"_

Hermione stopped blotting Ron's forehead long enough to scowl at the agent. "His name is _Ronald_ and you'd best remember it!"

Ron scowled as well. "How _dare_ you point a wand at Sara! I should've killed you, you stupid prat! Threaten her again and I will!"

Hermione raised her voice. "So will I!"

Harry picked up a quill and dipped it in ink, then turned his eyes to the agents, seated in the corner of the room. _"And then you'll deal with me." _He pulled a clean file from the stack and penned a name on the tab.

_Severus Snape_

* * *

"Draco? Are you awake?"

"Barely. Where did you go?"

"I had to talk to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. I told them the whole story."

"They didn't believe a word of it."

"They were objective. However, we were overheard by two ministry agents and I was nearly arrested. I went to my house, I got us some clothes and whatever food I could find, but we're on our own, I'm afraid. The Minister of Magic came to the door and informed me that the house was being closed because it's an asset. He took my port key and my door keys. Then he informed me that, like yours, my bank accounts have been frozen until you turn yourself in or you're found to be innocent."

"They've taken your money away?"

"Yes, but it's no matter, Draco. We're wizards. We'll be ok." Sara pulled off her shoes and dropped down on the bed, crawling under the covers in the chill of night. "I managed to send Brad a letter, asking him to remove this house from my list of assets. I asked him not to reply."

"Do you think he will? Hide this house from the ministry?"

"Yes. Go to sleep, Draco. We'll worry about the rest of it in the morning."

"The rest of what? What else happened? You can't say something like that and expect me to go to sleep!"

Sara sighed. "In his attempt to convince me of your guilt, Smidgeon informed me that they found the port key and the key to Nikolae's room that were stolen from McGonagall. They were in your house."

"I didn't steal them, Sara. I don't know how they got there."

"I know. _Everything _points to you, and that's why they should look elsewhere. They must know you're far too clever to leave such a trail of hard evidence behind."

Draco rolled over to face her and pushed his head against her shoulder. Sara put her arms around him. His voice was a pained whisper in the darkness. "I can't go to Azkaban. Help me, Sara."

"Don't worry, Draco. I won't let them find you. Go to sleep now. _You're safe."_

* * *

169


	14. Chapter 14: Don't Go Away

The Girl in the Tower 2: Home By the Sea Ch 14: Don't Go Away

**Part Two: Be Here Now**

_**The **__**G**__**irl in the Tower 2: Home By the Sea**_

_**Chapter 14: Don't Go Away**_

Too many shadows in my room

too many hours in this midnight

too many corners in my mind

so much to do to set my heart right

And now I'm walking in the park

and all the birds, they dance below me

Maybe when things turn green again,

it will be good to say you know me

~ John Mayer – _In Repair_

Cars were parked on both sides of Ferguson Drive and Harry watched for a moment as a loud truck rumbled past, just down the way on the high street. A light afternoon drizzle sat like mist in his hair and on the shoulders of his pullover, turning the fabric a darker shade of green. Without a wand, Harry charmed the rain from his glasses and sighed under a grey and listless sky. He was taking a chance, coming here, and a little voice inside urged him to walk away, to move on. He did his best to ignore it.

Christina's flat was above a flower shop, which was next to a tiny café and a newsstand, in the nicer section of Manchester. The area was something Christina would like, and he was glad Malfoy had at least put some thought into where she was to live. The building was very old, but in good repair, and there was a balcony on every floor. Harry hoped the inside was just as agreeable.

Movement near the corner of the narrow street caught his eye, and Harry recognized her at once. She carried two sacks of groceries and didn't seem to mind the rain. Her pace was unhurried and preoccupied by obvious thought. Panic quickened his breath and Harry almost turned away before she could catch sight of him. Instead, he made a quick decision and hurried across, into the flower shop.

Harry glanced around, knowing time was running short. She would be passing by before long, and so Harry grabbed a bouquet of irises from the nearest display. He turned to the clerk and was already digging money out of his pocket. "How much for these?"

"Five pounds."

Harry tossed a bill on the counter, thanked the clerk, and hurried back out the door.

There she was, not ten feet from him, looking at the ground as she walked with troubled eyes. Harry just stood there, holding his breath. Her dark hair was damp and curled around her shoulders. Her tee shirt and jeans were wet from a long walk, and her battered old trainers were soaked through. The laces dragged, sopping, through a shallow puddle, limp and gray. Harry cleared his throat and Christina was jolted from her silent reveries. Harry's heart started pounding.

Her pace slowed until she came to a stop and Christina considered Harry for a long moment before she spoke. "I know you."

Harry smiled. "Yes."

Christina's expression turned confused and frustrated, and laced with curiosity. "Are we friends?"

"I hope so. You kissed me the other day."

"I did?"

"Actually, I kissed you, but you didn't seem to mind. I guess that makes us friends."

Christina smiled and then turned flustered again. "I'm so sorry. I've been in an accident and I'm having some trouble remembering things. This is completely embarrassing, but I can't recall your name."

Sadness welled up inside him, knowing that it was true, that Draco really did such a thing to her. He'd known Christina for seven years, and now she couldn't recognize the person she considered her only friend. The person she called on when she needed to talk, the person who'd sat beside him on the face of a clock and danced with him in her living room. "I'm Harry."

"I'm so sorry to have to ask."

"It isn't everyday you get a second chance at a first impression. These are for you," he held up the flowers, "Looks like you could use a free hand. I'd be happy to carry those up for you." Harry took one of her bags.

"Irises are my favorite! How thoughtful! You're doing an excellent job with that second first impression if I may say so. Would you like a cup of tea, Harry? Perhaps you could talk with me for a bit, if you have a few minutes."

"It seems I _always_ want a cup of tea. Come on. Let's get out of the rain."

She led him through a door and up a flight of stairs, glancing back over her shoulder now and again as they climbed. "So, how long have we known each other?"

Harry was glad he'd prepared a slew of lies in advance, even though he hated having to tell them, now that he was here with her. "We just met, actually. A few weeks ago at a play in London. Are you all right, Christina? After the accident, I mean."

"I'm physically fine, aside from a few bruises and I'm still a little sore. The doctor thinks my spotty memory will come back in time."

_Spotty memory._ She was trying to hide the fact that she remembered nothing and Harry decided it was wise of her to do so. Revealing the fact while she was so alone in the world could be a dangerous decision. "That's good to hear. Is there anything I can do for you? Do you need anything?"

Christina unlocked a door and smiled as he stepped inside. "Besides a past? I'm fine, Harry, but thank you."

Harry followed her through a stiff parlor and into a rather sterile kitchen and he realized that Draco didn't know Christina at all. None of this was her style, and Harry was surprised that she hadn't already questioned her surroundings, so out of tune with her own personality.

"Just set it on the counter if you would."

Harry did and started unpacking the bags. "I'd help you put them away, but I don't know where anything goes."

Christina laughed and opened every cupboard. "Don't feel bad. Neither do I."

"Well, in that case I guess you could just put everything where you want it to be."

"Good idea." Christina opened the icebox, took out half a bottle of merlot, and simply stared at it.

Harry smiled as he watched her. "You hate merlot."

"I know. I can't understand why I have this. I have a _lot_ of it, actually. Most of my wine collection turned out to be heavy reds, and reds are just _vile._ I really only like white wine. Did I get divorced or something?"

"No, you've never been married. You had a relationship for a few years with some selfish git, but it ended about four years ago." Harry came around the counter and took the bottle of wine from her hands. He pulled the cork and dumped it down the sink. "There. Problem solved."

Christina laughed. "Excellent solution."

With the groceries in their rightful places, Harry filled the kettle as Chris searched for cups, found them, and got them each a teabag. "Sorry, I only have Darjeeling. I've always been partial to earl grey myself, but oh well. This works."

"Earl grey's my favorite, too. My ex said it smelled like floral perfume and she hated it, but I like the way it smells."

"Me too. It _does_ smell like floral perfume, but it tastes just the way you hope it will. I wish I had a few bags of it. I didn't think to pick some up while I was out." Christina pulled a drawer open and stopped short. "Whisks and spatulas? What the _hell?"_

"Not what you're looking for?"

"That's the strangest thing. Why did I put anything other than silverware here? This is definitely the silverware drawer in my opinion. _Look_ at this! Who puts the spoons in the _second drawer?_ Harry, if I didn't know any better, I'd say I was in someone else's flat. No woman would set a kitchen up this way."

"Sounds like a good reason to move, if you ask me."

Christina sighed and spooned sugar into the cups. "I've considered it this past week. Ever since I left the hospital, I've been kind of walking around in a daze. Nothing is familiar."

"I know the feeling. I've recently moved into a new flat. All my belongings are there, but I feel displaced. Everything feels so _wrong_, like I'm away from home."

"That's exactly how I feel."

"A friend told me to give it some time. That sounds reasonable enough."

"I suppose it will take some time to adjust, but I'm moving the bloody spoons."

Harry laughed and poured steaming water into the cups, surprised by the fact that she had just made his tea exactly as he preferred without knowing it. Two and a half spoons of sugar and a _slice_ of lemon, not a wedge. Harry wondered what it meant. "I think you should do what makes you happy."

Christina smiled, and then grew serious. "Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?"

Harry sipped his tea. "Not at all."

"Have you met any of my friends?"

"No, and you never really mentioned any. You didn't even name the selfish git you used to see."

"Do I have a job?"

"You're an actress, but you were looking for work. You said you've been in a few plays over the years, but you never really said which ones."

Christina looked around at the white, symmetrical kitchen. "How long have I lived here?"

"I don't think you've lived in this flat long, but I'm not certain. We never really discussed it, but that was the impression I got. You were always talking about changing everything. Painting the walls and whatnot."

"Well, at least I know that I didn't wake up with completely different tastes in decorating and wine. Even _you_ knew that I hated merlot, so I'm still wondering why I have it."

"Maybe you have friends who drink it? It's bound to be something simple like that. You shouldn't dwell on it." Harry took her hand and Christina was startled. Harry pulled his hand away. "I'm sorry. I guess it will take a little getting used to, that you can't remember me."

"I'm sorry. I feel terrible. I really wish I could remember, and it seems that I liked you a great deal, so it's twice as frustrating."

"I understand. Don't feel bad, Chris, it isn't your fault."

"Harry… have we…?"

Harry smiled. "I'm tempted to have fun with that question, but no. We talk a lot. We've gone out a few times, but it's all pretty new."

"The night of my accident, I was traveling home from London. I had bags with me, as though I'd spent a few days there. Did I see you? You said you live in London, didn't you?"

Harry cringed at the lie he was about to tell but, given the circumstances, lying was his only realistic option. This was the question he'd been dreading most, but he couldn't tell her that she'd been leaving the likes of Draco Malfoy, or that she'd written to Harry himself, and he hadn't answered her. He couldn't tell her that she'd lived in London, too, or that her new life was one big, elaborate lie. Harry let his smile fall away. "You went to try out for a play, but the auditions were cancelled. We went to lunch on a Saturday afternoon and sat outside at a little place in the south end. You told me that you hate merlot and we had Pinot Gregio with our sandwiches. Later that night, we did some sightseeing and you taught me a silly dance. We laughed like crazy and I had a great time. You're a terrible dancer, I want you to know, but it ended well."

"I suppose that's when the snog comes in?"

Harry felt himself blushing and smiled. "That would be it, yes."

"You have a kind face, Harry. I hope my amnesia doesn't keep you from coming by. I'd like to get to know you again. In fact, I'd like that very much."

Harry's smile widened. "I was hoping you'd say that."

* * *

Sara touched his shoulder as she sat on the edge of the bed and lowered her voice to a soothing whisper. "Draco, sit up. I've made a potion for you."

Draco moaned, weak and lethargic. "My stomach's upset. I don't think I should move."

"I'm getting that last vial, Draco. You need it this time."

"I can't take it now. What if we have to run, Sara?"

"But you're sick! You're _really_ sick! I don't know what to do, Draco. I'm afraid for you."

"Snape will send more."

"It's been more than a week! What's he trying to do? _Kill you?_ Draco, you _need medicine! _We can't keep relying on Severus. What if he was arrested? What if they found out that he let you escape?"

"Might have brewed a bad batch."

"I'll find some money. I'll go to the apothecary. Tell me what to get and I'll make it for you."

"Snape will send it, Sara." Draco rolled, listless, onto his back and found her hand with his eyes closed. "Don't worry about me. It'll pass."

Sara looked upon his face in silent horror. Draco was covered with a scarlet rash, like acne or chicken pox, and Sara decided it was best not to tell him. "Please take the potion I made. Even if it only helps a little, it's better than nothing."

Draco allowed her to raise his head and drank from the cup she held to his lips. His head was lowered again with the greatest care and her hand caressed his damp, matted hair. Without a word, he rolled away and retched into a bucket beside the bed.

Sara burst into tears. "I'm so sorry! My god, Draco, I didn't mean for it to make you sick!" She covered her face with her hands and sobbed into them. "I can't do this! You need a doctor! Draco, I don't know how to take care of you! _I don't know what I'm doing!"_

Draco fell onto his back again, but was too weak to comfort her the way he wanted to. His hand crept across the bed once more, and came to rest on the folds of her skirt, unable to raise his arm to touch her. Sara took his hand and kissed it before folding it in both of hers.

His eyes grew heavy and it took effort to speak, but Draco couldn't go to sleep while she suffered this way. "Sara, listen to me. This will pass. Nothing you brew will help, but it looks worse than it really is. Don't worry so much."

"But I have to help you. I can't let you lie here like this."

"If you want to help, then stay with me awhile. Keep me warm, I'm freezing."

Sara lay down beside him, sliding under the many blankets she'd piled on the bed. Draco's temperature was frightening, like she'd curled up with a furnace, and tears spilled from her eyes onto the pillow. He took her hand and she held it tight. "Tell me what's wrong with you. You can't do this to me, Draco. I need to know."

"Shhh… quiet, Sara."

"Please tell me."

"I'm so tired…"

Sara sighed as Draco's shallow breaths turned deep and slow. He was asleep again and it was just as well. He didn't suffer while he slept. Sara remained as long as she could stand the heat that radiated from him. It was intense, and it frightened her. She kissed the back of his shirt and let her eyes fall closed for a long moment as her forehead rested against the damp, clammy fabric there. Her words were barely a whisper in the darkness. _"Please be ok_."

Draco's only response was the slow rise and fall of his chest, burning with fever against Sara's hand and so she slipped from the bed, wishing there was something she could do. She looked on him in the dimness and her mental hand reached out to his, tentative and frightened of the consequences. Sara touched his mind, but knew she had to keep her promise to Nikolae. It was important that she never take what another was unwilling to give. The code of Divination, and her own morals, demanded it. No matter how sick he was. No matter how dire the circumstances. Draco had every right to the privacy of his own thoughts. Sara pulled her mind away and hurried out the door without a sound.

The kitchen was still a source of disappointment. There was nothing left to eat. There was no money. Sara was hungry, and the thought of stealing crossed her mind. She'd done it twice already, but only to feed Draco. It was different if it was for the better of someone else. Someone who wasn't able to fend for himself at the moment. And so Sara had gone without food for a few days. She'd told herself it was a diet, but she was already too thin and the hunger was beginning to wear her down. She had only two choices in this situation. Steal, or go back to London and ask Harry for help. Somehow, neither seemed like the right thing to do.

* * *

"How can you _smile_ at a time like this? We need help and where were _you_ all day? Hermione needed someone to take notes!"

Hermione scoffed. "I was talking about _you_, not Harry!"

Harry turned serene eyes to Ron, who stared back, incredulous and irritated. "I wasn't thinking about Sara, or Malfoy, or Voldemort, or spell books when I smiled, if that makes any difference."

Hermione came to his defense, remembering the morose version of her friend from the week before. "Ron, if Harry's smiling, then you just leave him to it! Who cares where he went, as long as it helped."

"Well, I was just wondering what it was _about_ is all. I never said he _couldn't_ smile."

Hermione turned to Harry. "So where _did_ you go?"

"Like you said, it doesn't matter, but you're right, it helped. So what have we learned today?"

"We found the kid in this picture. The one Draco was harassing? He said Draco held his puppy over the side of the bridge and threatened to drop her unless he handed over his chocolate frog cards."

"He certainly hasn't changed much since school. How childish!"

Harry sighed and turned to Hermione. "Ten galleons say he took a few steps and tossed those cards into the river. He only does those things so he can have power over someone else."

"Because he's a bully!"

Ron crossed his arms and scowled. "You think?"

Harry's eyes darkened. "Yes, and thank Merlin Sara's alone with him _who knows where."_

Hermione worried about where this conversation was heading and decided on an abrupt change of subject. "I found the old woman and she isn't what we were expecting."

Harry sat up, interested.

"Malfoy gave her some jewelry to repair. Something she'd made for Narcissa's mother years ago. I saw the box she gave him and I didn't sense any deception from her. That one's a dead end. So what next?"

"We need to find Sylvia and Bellatrix. We need to put a tail on Snape."

"Easier said than done. With McGonagall still in the hospital, we'd never get past the ministry guard at Hogwarts and Snape would never let us in. Mariah's cousin isn't very effective as a spy. We're running out of options, Harry."

"You forgot about one other option. Dobby could tail Snape better than any student, but Snape is Acting Headmaster, which complicates things when you consider the intense loyalty of house elves to their master."

"He's loyal to _you,_ mate. He isn't bound to the school like the other elves."

"True, Ron, but I don't feel right asking him to compromise his basic principals."

"Compromise his bloody _what?_ Harry! Our books are in the hands of the Death eaters! _Ask him!"_

"I will. I just don't feel right about it is all."

Hermione sighed. "Harry, it's for the greater good of everyone, even house elves. If you explain that the Dark Lord he helped vanquish could return at any moment, I'm sure he'll warm right up to the idea. It wouldn't hurt if you told him it's what Dumbledore would want."

Harry fell silent at the mention of Dumbledore. Grief washed through him and Harry longed for the guidance he'd once come to depend on. Dumbledore would know what to do. Harry Potter, however, did not. "Seamus and Neville's band is playing tonight. Dead Nexus. We should probably go."

Ron breathed relief at the change of subject. "They're bloody awful, mate. I mean, the band is good, but the singer sounds like he's got a whole army of frogs in his throat."

Hermione joined right in. "Didn't Seamus say he was sick or something? The singer?"

"No Hermione. Seamus said _he_ was sick of the singer."

Harry burst out laughing, startling Ron and Hermione, who stared at him for a moment, and then joined in.

A knock at the door spoiled the moment, and so Harry got up to answer it. He was pleased to find Mariah on the other side with her arms full of books, and more in a bag slung on her shoulder. Harry smiled. "Did I ever tell you that you remind me of someone I know?"

Mariah flashed her brilliant smile and stepped inside. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Harry shut the door and grinned. "Hermione, your twin is here."

Hermione laid a hand over her bloated stomach. "She's too _thin_ to be my twin."

Mariah threw Ron an elbow to the ribs and he straightened up. "Um… You look _wonderful,_ Hermione."

Both girls erupted with laughter and Harry grinned again. "Too much, too late, Ron. Nice try, though."

Mariah did her best to stop laughing at Ron and pulled her notes from her bag. "I'm happy to say that I've narrowed it down. Judging from the information Hermione got from camera four, the ingredients he had measured out contribute to one of two potions. One is Noctris, and I think that's the most likely. The other one has absolutely no use in an attack of any kind."

"The serum I read about?"

"Yes."

"You're right, that _wouldn't_ fit in with the scheme of things. So it's Noctris is it?"

Ron was confused. "And what is Noctris again? Come on, Hermione. You know Harry and I don't remember this stuff like you do, so you can stop rolling your eyes at me because Harry doesn't know what it is, either!"

Harry cleared his throat, uncomfortable. "Um… actually, it's a sleeping gas. They'll toss you in Azkaban and throw away the key if they catch you with it."

Ron sulked in his chair. "Show off. I'll remember that, you know!"

Harry shrugged his apology.

Ron changed the subject, embarrassed. "So, is Smidgeon still letting us in to look at Malfoy's lab tonight? Steve and Swan seemed to think he was, but have you heard anything, Harry?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to stay behind, Ron. They got clearance for Mariah, but they're still working on yours. I don't understand what's taking so long, I mean, you're Order of Merlin! What's to look into?"

Hermione grew angry. "Don't forget he has a medal for outstanding service from Smidgeon himself!"

Ron went back to sulking. "Fine then. You should probably get ready to go. I'll just stay here and pretend I'm _not_ completely useless."

"Don't worry, mate. They'll get it all sorted out."

"Sure they will. After it's all over!"

* * *

Sara sat at the table with a blank book and a ballpoint pen, wishing she could enjoy the pasta she'd made for herself. It was cheap and so was the sauce, nothing like she was accustomed to, but that had nothing to do with the listlessness in her appetite. That came from the manner in which she'd acquired her dinner. Sara took a drink of water, poised the pen over the page, and wrote.

**The Draco Memoirs**

_Manhattan, New York City_

_September 15th_

_Being a fugitive is far harder than I thought it would be. There is a bag of groceries here in the kitchen, and I regard it now in solemn contemplation, understanding that this bag of groceries has made me a criminal. It wasn't just a few dollars for a bowl of soup this time. I really pulled a fast one._

_I took a taxi to the market, which is only a few blocks over, toward Broadway, and used magic to make the driver believe I'd given him a fifty-dollar bill. (I'd actually given him a slip of newsprint I'd torn from the morning Times.) He handed me forty dollars in change. That's how I got this bag of groceries. I finally have food, but I no longer feel hungry. The knowledge of what I did to get it has robbed my enjoyment of it, the same way I robbed the taxi driver. I just hope he isn't reprimanded when his fares come up short at the end of the night. _

_Only a loathsome creature would use such smoke and mirror magic tricks to take advantage of a helpless muggle, steal from him, and endanger his livelihood. I have become that loathsome creature and I hate myself for it. _

_How have things come to this? Our lives went from over-privileged to chaos in mere moments on the roof of my tower, and it had all happened so fast. (The worst part is that I hadn't even done anything wrong!) Ten days ago, we were wealthy, wanting for nothing, and had lavish homes of our own. Now, everything has been taken from us. Frozen, locked, whatever. We can't go home. We can't stop in to grab a few things, and if we try, Draco will be arrested, and I could be followed back to him. We can't access any money at all and lines of credit have been closed. It's meant to flush us out, and it just might work. We're going to starve to death if something doesn't change. I can't steal anymore. The only place to run is back to England, and we can't stay here. These rooms are a graveyard of painful memories and it hurts too much to be here. However, there isn't anywhere else for us to go where we could hide, unnoticed, and in relative safety. _

_Then there is the matter of Draco. I understand now why he can't go to Azkaban. He should be in a hospital somewhere, getting the sort of help he needs to overcome this allergy complication or whatever Severus said it was. It would be easy to get a sleeping potion out of the cabinet and slip some into his tea. Let him wake up at St. Mungo's. The problem is; he made me promise to do no such thing._

_Draco awoke on our third day in New York feeling well and refreshed. He was his old self again, and so I took him on a tour of Central Park, which this house overlooks. I took him to Strawberry Fields, to see the mosaic in the sidewalk that says "Imagine" as a tribute to John Lennon. We went to the duck pond, stood on a bridge for a while, walked alongside the horse-drawn carriages, past where the ice rink is in winter, watched a string quartet, and any manner of other things. We wandered through the sunlit expanse for hours, talking of old times and pleasant things. We left the reality of this situation alone for that time, and I'm glad we did. I almost felt normal again. _

_On the fourth day, Draco asked to see the Statue of Liberty. We didn't have much money left, but I was expecting a package from Severus at any time and so was he, so I used most of what we had left to buy two roundtrips on the subway. We didn't have enough to take the ferry to Ellis Island, but we enjoyed the view from Battery Park. We sat there for hours, Draco and me, talking about the trouble we're in and what the future may hold. Sometimes he put his arm around me and we sat in silence, staring off at the majesty of America's most celebrated landmark. _

_Draco wandered off for a few minutes and returned with several slices of pizza and sodas for us to share. I had what remained of our money in my pocket, only two dollars, and so I don't know how he came by our meal. I don't want to know. I enjoyed It far too much to care. Besides, it was the last actual meal I was to eat until tonight. Six days later._

_Draco awoke the next morning, throwing up, shaking, and burning with fever. He didn't recover as quickly that time, and two days later the illness had worsened until he begged me for one of the two remedies Severus had given him. He was so sick by then that I didn't argue. I even helped him take it, and he was fine within minutes. I don't know what sort of remedy it is, but apparently, only Severus can brew it, and it's the only thing that seems to have any effect. Basic potions barely touch what ails him. All that remains of it is a single dose. _

_Draco needs that last dose tonight, and he needs it far more than he'd needed the last one. He's worse than I've ever seen him, but he refuses to take it and I understand his decision. Like he said earlier, if we have to run, he won't make it ten steps without that potion. _

_I'm dying to send an owl to Severus, or use the fireplace, if that even works overseas, just so I know if the remedies Draco needs are coming soon or not at all. It's too dangerous to contact anyone, especially him. Perhaps I should wait just a little longer? I have faith in Severus. He would never leave Draco to suffer. _

_I don't know what to do anymore. It kills me to see him like this, too weak to care for himself, too sick to move from the bed. I've dealt with illness before, but never anything like this. I can't even describe the severity of it and it scares me to death. Every time I leave the room, I think he'll die before I return and I can't stand the thought of losing him. Draco is my best friend, my kindred spirit, and I love him dearly. I wouldn't be here if I didn't. _

Sara closed the book and laid down her pen before emptying her glass and rinsing the dishes in the sink. It had been a couple of hours, so she thought it best to check on Draco. He was sure to wake up soon.

Sara heated a can of chicken broth with a wave of her hand, dumped it into a large mug and set it on a service tray. She added some potion to help calm his stomach, and a rose from the roof garden, in a vase for him.

The stairs were slow going. There was no energy left to burn and three flights could be a strain when strength was scarce, but Sara trudged up them with a tray heavy on her arms and dread building somewhere deep in the pit of her stomach. Sara felt the first touch of alarm and moved faster up the stairs. By the time she reached the third flight, soup and water were sloshing out and onto the carpet. When she reached the landing, the tray crashed to the floor and Sara broke into a run. Something was very, _very_ wrong.

* * *

The room was hideous, plain and simple. It was even _worse_ than the living room, and Christina stared at the bedspread with confusion and distaste. The colors were dark and muted, with gothic undertones and a sharp, geometric pattern that was harsh and uncomfortable. The entire room was abrasive, more suited to a man than a woman, and Christina had always favored a softer look with lush colors and abstract patterns. The drapes were too heavy. The lamps jutted from the wall at a sharp angle, colorless, metallic, and imposing. The art was severe, and Christina cringed at the ugly hue of the painted walls. _Everything_ was coordinated with absolute precision, leaving little room for her strong imaginative side. One thing was certain. There was no way she had decorated this room, and when she tried to picture whose room this should be, what came to mind was not the cozy home she would want for herself. In her minds eye, a faint glimmer of memory raced across her thoughts, quick, and too fleeting for detail. A gothic mansion. Cold, empty, and full of echoes.

Christina fell onto the bed she despised and withdrew her memory journal from the drawer of the nightstand. With her head propped on one elbow, she recorded what little there was of what she'd seen, along with the sense of loneliness that had accompanied it. It was immense, this feeling, and _hurtful._ Perhaps this was where she'd lived once, maybe with the old boyfriend Harry had mentioned? Maybe it was someone's home, where she'd visited after they broke up? Or a hotel? Maybe it had nothing to do with anything? Christina sighed. _Not knowing_ was such a helpless, anxious feeling. Like being alone in an unfriendly place, lost and without means of escape, needing to trust, but in whom? In _what?_

Harry had been a most wonderful revelation. True, he wasn't the most handsome chap she'd ever seen, but then he was very attractive in his own way. His kindness was natural, his eyes were intense with strength and knowledge, and her sense of loyalty to him was already strong. There was something about him that was different, that was _special._ Something that brought a warm smile whenever he came to mind and Christina was certain that she loved him on some level, even though they'd only been dating for a few weeks before the accident.

Had they really known each other such a short time? Harry knew _so much_ about her. Things that take time to learn. He'd said they spent a lot of time talking, which made sense since he lived in London and she in Manchester, but she didn't even have Harry's telephone number! She'd conducted an intricate search of the flat and found not one single scrap of paper. No address book. How had she rung him up? She'd always been bad with numbers. She never would have remembered it without writing it down, and if she'd written it down, she never would have tossed it out, no matter how ingrained it became.

Harry had also mentioned the fact that, when she had gone to London, it was to audition for a play. The fact that the casting call had been cancelled was enough to narrow it down. It would be easy to find the theater. Perhaps she'd worked with them before? Maybe they knew of her, or had seen her perform? It would be most helpful if they had a copy of her resume on file, as she seemed to have no copies of it here, which was even stranger than not having Harry's number.

Christina rolled off the bed, tossed the journal in her bag, and found her warmest jumper before heading into the dampness of a new Autumn night.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Professor, but I'll have to check that package before you send it. You know the rules."

Snape scowled at the young, sandy-haired auror who'd stepped from the shadows beside the post office. He'd used a secret tunnel to get out of the castle, and had actually _walked_ to Hogsmeade with hopes of getting this package out undetected. But no, the Ministry lurked wherever he went. Severus set his eyes on the scrawny little man before him, sneered, and stepped forward. The man shrunk back and swallowed hard. "This _package_ happens to be a very important delivery for St. Mungo's and it's none of the Ministry's _business _so _stand aside."_

"Come on now, Professor. You know I'm on orders. You'll have to clear it with the Minister."

"It's none of _his_ business, either!"

"Well, if it was up to me, it wouldn't be an issue, sir, but I have my orders. No unchecked packages."

Snape spun around in irritation and stalked off, back toward the castle, mumbling under his breath. Where was Nikolae when you needed him? Getting remedies to Draco had proven far more difficult than anticipated, and at this point, a little help was in order. He had only one option left, and it would require him to know where they were. He needed Nikolae's telepathic abilities before Sara or Draco came looking for him. They were bound to be out of money by now, and Draco was sure to be plenty sick. They needed his help, and it couldn't wait any longer. He would have to swallow his pride and talk to Potter.

* * *

Christina jogged across the street in the rain, worried about damaging her new hairdo, with two heavy bags swinging in time with her hurried steps. She leaped over a puddle and onto the curb. The soggy tips of her shoe strings landed on the pavement with a tiny wet slap and a slow-moving taxi beeped as it passed. A red and white striped awning offered shelter just up ahead and Christina rushed to get under it.

Looking around as she caught her breath, Christina noticed a man, huddled in a doorway on the other side of the street. His longish brown hair obscured his face in shadow beneath the brim of an odd old hat, and his hands were anonymous in the deep pockets of a sleek black raincoat. She had seen him before, she was certain, but where? Was he an acquaintance? Maybe he lived around here and she'd passed him on occasion? Maybe he was someone she should avoid? He tipped his hat and she smiled, but he didn't have the same kindness in his manner as Harry did, and her trust was reluctant at best. Something about him set her ill at ease and as the hairs rose on the back of her neck, Christina made a quick decision to enter the door behind her.

It was one of those too-expensive women's boutiques she always shied away from, but at least it was a place where she could browse for awhile, kill some time until the stranger across the way took his leave.

Christina hated shopping almost as much as she hated washing dishes, but then she couldn't recall a time when she'd had money enough to shop. It had never been fun for her, depressing for the most part, but she had seen her bank accounts. No problems there. She could buy whatever she wanted, and buy something she would. Just to see how it felt.

Never having been a person with much of a fashion sense, jeans often accompanied basic colors in common fabrics when it came to her wardrobe. Nothing fancy. Black and white, red, or maybe green on occasion. An old pair of trainers. These are the things that she wore, no silk or satin. No daring ensembles. These clothes were finer than her usual, but Christina looked anyway, dreading the thought of going back into the cold drizzle. She would wait until it slowed enough to grab a taxi.

Dresses were a good thing to consider. All one piece. No colors, styles or fabrics for her to match. Christina moved through the selection, sliding hangers from one side to the other, glancing at odd embellishments and outrageous cuts with nothing short of amusement.

Lightning lit up the night sky outside, startling Christina, and that's when the world's most perfect dress fell off the rack and onto her feet. It was casual, but exquisite and the deepest shade of purple, so dark it could be mistaken for black. It looked like something an elegant gypsy, not Christina Safford, would wear, but something about this dress drew her beyond understanding. It reminded her of something, or some_one_ she couldn't remember, but one thing she _did_ know was that she had to buy this dress.

The man was nowhere in sight as Christina hailed a taxi, to her relief, and it was only a few moments ride to her flat. She cringed again as she passed through the ugly red walls of the living room and into the too white kitchen, where she put away the few groceries she'd bought. She positioned her many new candles around the rooms, lit them, and smiled a little. That was more like it. The amber glow gave the harsh rooms a softer feel and appealed to her newfound love of the understated and mysterious.

A cup of tea steamed beside the bed, but Christina couldn't take her eyes from her reflection. It was amazing, the difference. Who knew it would be so drastic? Turning this way and that, Christina smiled as the lamplight shimmered, golden and beautiful, a muted halo she'd never had before. Having lived all her life with boring chestnut hair, blonde was rather liberating, transforming and new. _Exciting_, really. She couldn't wait to show Harry.

Harry wasn't coming for several hours, according to the note she'd found slipped under the door, but Christina was anxious for him to see her new look. Would she mind if he popped in for an hour or so, even if it was late? _Hell no,_ she didn't mind! At this point in her lonely, confused existence, _any_ visitor was welcome, and Harry more than any other. She liked Harry a great deal, probably more than she should at this point, but Christina had faith in her instincts. Her instincts told her that Harry could be trusted.

As she stood before the mirror, Christina smiled wider. She still wasn't used to her hair, flowing honey gold over her shoulders, but she already loved the way it looked. Together with the exquisite gypsy dress, she was a whole new person. Who that person _was_ remained a mystery.

A phantom voice, lovely and familiar, echoed through her mind. Some snippet of memory, alone and disconnected, a word she did not understand. "_The Elemental," _it said, drifting, haunting and ethereal, a sliver of whispered beauty.

* * *

Hermione sighed. "Ron's going to be _furious_ when we tell him about this, you know. Perhaps we should act as though Malfoy's house was nothing special."

Harry looked around the vast atrium, easily the most expensive room he'd ever seen with his own eyes. He nodded his agreement as they walked along behind Steve and Swan, whose hat had a new feather. "I'd always thought Malfoy Manor was probably a nice place, but I had no idea Draco lived in a _palace._ No wonder he's such a prat! I would be, too, if I lived in a place like this."

"No you wouldn't. You're too strong of a person to be so affected by material possessions."

"Maybe so, maybe not, but don't let Malfoy fool you. He's stronger than you think, just not in the ways that matter."

Mariah said nothing as she dropped to the back of the procession, following behind Harry and Hermione, taking in the grandeur and detail of her surroundings. Just down the left corridor, a door stood open, but they wouldn't be allowed to view the room. They only had permission to examine the potions lab, by order of the Minister of Magic, and no one wanted to be caught out of bounds.

A flight of wooden stairs led them into the dungeons, where they traveled the length of a cold corridor before stepping through the door of the lab. The warmth of the room wrapped around them and both agents removed their gray trench coats, folded them in half, and laid them over their arms in a unanimous gesture, causing Hermione to laugh under her breath.

Harry wandered first to the worktable, where many ingredients sat, measured out in jars, and covered with small squares of white cloth. All except a gossamer, shimmering powder that stood alone in many tiny vials. "Hermione? Is this what I think it is?"

Hermione took the sample from Harry's hand, giving it a considerable glance. "It's magitite. Mariah and I figured it was when we saw it on camera four." Hermione started and dropped her voice to a confidential whisper. "Harry, where's Mariah?"

Harry pretended to examine a large jar of ground gnats. "I haven't seen her since the atrium. I was busy talking to you."

"Well, whatever she found, it better be _good_. Hurry up, Harry. As soon as they realize she's gone, our time in this lab will be over."

Harry took a few sheets of parchment and a quill from his backpack and began listing the ingredients before him, along with the approximate quantity of each.

Swan glanced over his shoulder as he shared an official letter with Steve. "Remember, Potter, look all you want, but that's it."

Steve glanced back as well. "That's right, kids. This room is central to a criminal investigation. It _will_ remain intact."

Harry glanced at Hermione just in time to see her slip a book into her bag, taken from the small desk in the corner. Harry, not wanting to draw attention to Hermione, was quick to turn back to the agents. "I can't imagine why you'd think I would want Draco Malfoy's batwing flies, but I give you my word. I won't take anything out of this room."

"That's good, Potter, because the minister's a bit of a twitch when he's flustered, and personally, I'd rather not deal with him." Steve and Swan turned back to their letter.

Harry finished his inventory and joined Hermione at the desk, skimming through the many papers. He felt a tap on his shoulder and spun around to find Mariah had managed to sneak in, unnoticed. Harry grinned.

Mariah grinned back and leaned into his ear. "You're never going to believe what I found!"

Harry's eyes lit up in curiosity. _"What is it?"_

"Later."

Swan lifted his head after several minutes of paper-skimming, in which Mariah had decided to assist. "Are we almost done here?" Swan glanced at his watch, "We've got a meeting back at the office in fifteen minutes. You'll have to hurry it along."

Hermione sighed and returned the papers she held to the drawer. "I'm afraid there isn't much here. The potions he was brewing have been cleared. We documented the worktable and went through the desk. Let me just run through the bookshelf and we'll be finished."

* * *

Sara crashed through the door of her childhood bedroom, breathing in jagged gasps and running across the room to his side. "Draco! _DRACO!!"_ Sara's frantic tone turned panicked when she leaned over the bed to get a look at him. The rash had blistered and spread, his eyes were half-open, like that of the dead, and the terror she felt blossomed into something altogether more frightening. Sara shook him, but he neither awoke nor moved and it was with the greatest dread that she realized he was in a comatose state. His skin raged with a fever so high that she was certain death was imminent.

Sara screamed his name in shear panic as she tore the blankets from the bed and dragged him to the floor. A quick charm lifted his limp body into the air and Sara ran with him to the bathtub in the next room. If only she had a cooling potion!

The icy water poured over his legs and rose, so slow as to drive her mad, and Sara used magic to chill the water, sobbing as she held him close against her shoulder, pleading with him to _please be all right._ "You can't die, Draco," she cried, "Don't leave me, just _please_ don't leave me!"

As the water spilled over his legs and rose to circle his waist, Draco moaned, shaking with violent chills, and Sara cried harder.

"_Wake up!_ Draco, I'm so _scared_ I don't want you to die you can't die just PLEASE wake up, _PLEASE!"_

"So… cold... _so cold…_ Sara… I'm so…"

Sara buried her head in his hair and cried relief into his shoulder and she did her best to calm the tremors that racked his body, begging him to stay in the water when his flaccid arm tried to pull him out of the tub.

"The remedy… I need…"

Sara bolted into the other room and fumbled through the many pockets of his robe before she found the cloudy little vial. Draco was trying to get out of the freezing water when she returned, but he was unable to find the strength, so Sara wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to the floor without grace or deliberation. Cradling his head, Sara poured the last of his salvation onto his tongue.

Draco closed his eyes, letting the potion cure him from the inside out. His voice was a harsh whisper, pained and difficult. "Stay with me, Sara."

"I won't leave you."

"Don't cry anymore."

Sara did her best to dry her eyes, to no avail. It was easy to say that she'd never been so scared in her life. "You almost _died!_ I thought I was losing you forever and..." Sara pulled him close and kissed his face.

Draco managed a grateful smile. "You're dripping all over me. You're not a phoenix, you know."

Sara laughed through her tears and smoothed his hair. "Don't you ever do that to me again, Draco Malfoy. Don't you even _think_ about it."

Draco sat up and hugged her tight to his chest. "I'm just fine now, Sara. The potion took care of everything. You don't have to worry anymore. _Shh…_ I'm sorry I scared you. Thank you for taking care of me."

"I thought I was losing you."

"You _saved_ me, though, didn't you? And I want to say, if you ever stick me in a vat of ice water again, I'll punch you right in the nose." Sara laughed and he pulled back to wipe the tears from her eyes. "Think I'm kidding?"

* * *

Harry took a deep breath and straightened his untidy hair before ringing the bell, having transfigured and hidden his Lightning Mach 5 in a storage cubby down the hall. He was nervous, though he didn't know why, and felt awkward calling on a woman who should by all rights be off limits to him, and at such a late hour. He'd wanted to see her again is all, and Harry hoped she didn't get the wrong impression.

Christina smiled wide as she opened the door. "Well? What do you think? It was an impulse, but I don't know. Something made me do it."

Harry felt like someone had dealt him a harsh blow as he looked at her. Sara's clothes, Sara's hair, and Sara's confidence awaited his approval and he fought the urge to back away. _How could it be?_ Harry knew that Christina had always been awed by Sara, and it made sense that some small part of her subconsciously remembered those qualities she'd admired most, but how could she get it so _right?_ Harry swallowed hard, thinking he should excuse himself and go home. He should have realized from the start that this was not a good idea. The wizarding world had been taken from her, yet here he was, misrepresenting himself in order to weasel his way back into her affections, and complicating her life more than she knew. He had a feeling Christina would be horrified to know that she'd made herself into the image of the woman he loved the most.

Christina's smile faded away, replaced with disappointment. "You don't like it, do you?"

"Why would you think that?"

"You look like someone just punched you in the gut."

Figuratively, that wasn't far from the truth. "Sorry, but you look so different! I was a little surprised is all."

"But you still hate it."

"I like it more than you know."

Christina smiled again and motioned for him to come in. "So I don't look like the bride of Frankenstein?"

Harry chuckled as he took off his shoes. _More like the bride of Harry Potter,_ he thought in dismay. "You look fantastic, actually." Harry stopped to smile at her as part of him was intrigued by her eerily familiar appearance, and the other half of him wanted to go find Sara and beg her to take him back. "I can't get over how _different_ you look. This will definitely take some getting used to."

Harry led her into the kitchen, where he set a bag on the counter and started getting pans out of the cupboards.

"What are you doing? What have you got there?"

"I had to work late and I didn't get much for dinner, so I thought I could make us some dessert. I hope you're a little hungry?"

"Are you kidding? I've always got room for dessert. Is that cherry sauce I see?"

Harry grinned. "Maybe."

"I got some earl grey if you'd like a cup."

"Later perhaps. I brought something a little more fun than tea."

Christina smiled. "You cook, I'll set the table. I suck at cooking. I hope you don't need my help."

"I've got it covered. Do you have any more candles? I've always thought desserts tasted better by candlelight." It was a corny thing to say, and unlike him, but Harry found the idea of looking at her with the lights on, looking like the ghost of Sara Lemke, might just push him over the edge. He'd been honest earlier. Her new appearance would certainly take some getting used to.

"I'd have to agree, especially in here. This kitchen looks like a dentist office or something. I think I've got some tapers in the hutch." She talked as she moved about the room, adding this and that to the table as Harry folded cream into the cherry sauce and warmed bread pudding in the oven. "So tell me, Harry, what do you do for work? I'm afraid I've forgotten anything you might have told me prior to yesterday."

"I'm a private investigator of sorts."

Christina grinned. "People hire you to spy on their wives?"

"Not really. Actually, I've never had a case like that. I mostly investigate crimes and suspected criminals. And it's often governments or private groups who hire us, not jealous husbands."

"You said 'us.'

"I work with two partners, friends of mine. Their excellent at what they do. I couldn't get along without them."

"What are their names?"

Harry stuttered just long enough for her to glance up in question. "I'm sorry, what did you ask?"

"Just wondered what their names were. Your friends."

Harry wasn't skilled enough at lying to come up with anything so quickly. "Ron and Hermione. They're expecting their first child in the spring. He wants a girl; she wants a boy. They'll never agree on _anything_, they never have, and I think they've stopped trying to."

"How nice! I'll bet they're excited."

"She's sick a lot, so Ron's been rather concerned, but his mum said it will pass."

"It's morning sickness and Ron's mum is right."

Harry laughed. "I think they'll enjoy it more when she stops turning green every five minutes."

"I don't even know them, but I'd have to agree with that," Christina laughed, "Or do I?"

"You don't know them." Harry realized that this comment was true, now that she remembered nothing, but the guilt of falsehood invaded him anyway. "They're the most inquisitive people. Maybe I'll introduce you at some point, but for now I think I'd rather avoid all the questions."

"Understandable." Christina sat for a long moment, staring into the flame of the candle she'd lit on the table before her. "You know, I've been trying to recover my memory by letting it come to me as I focus on certain things, and whenever I think of you, the strangest phrase just leaps into my mind. I feel strongly that I said it to you before and I was wondering if you might tell me what it means?"

Harry touched the bread pudding and decided to give it a few more minutes, turning back to the sauce. He lowered the heat and went to cover the pan. "What was it?"

Christina hesitated, and then lowered her voice. _"Why are you pointing a stick at me?"_

Harry dropped the lid with a loud, metal clamor, startled. He remembered the exact moment. In Draco's room the day he'd tried to kill Sara. It was one of the first things Christina had ever said to him. "Um… I can't say I remember that. Sorry."

* * *

"That was _excellent_, Harry. You're a very good cook."

"I had plenty of practice as a kid. Besides, I bought the bread pudding and the cherry sauce. Adding cream doesn't make me a chef or anything, but thank you. I'm glad you liked it."

Christina sipped from an elegant crystal flute, a set of which she'd found hanging in the corner. "The champagne is excellent as well. Funny, you don't seem like someone who drinks enough to have such refined taste."

Harry smiled at her spot-on intuition. "You're quite right, but I've been to my fair share of celebrations. My wife's rather fond of parties."

And there it was, the slip he'd been dreading. The one he'd been trying so hard not to make. The words hung in the air, a great cloud of invisible cancer between them, devouring the warmth they'd shared until this very moment.

Christina froze in shock and disbelief, stunned to silence, astounded and confused. She set down her glass and brushed her hair aside with a nervous hand. "I'm sorry; did you just say that you're married?"

Harry sighed. He would have to be careful with his answers, as though he was dancing around a landmine. If Christina was given enough clues, or if she saw a picture of Sara, she might remember her. If that happened, she'd realize that he'd been telling her lie after lie after lie and that he knew all the things she was struggling to remember, including the manner in which she'd lost her memory. The entire charade teetered on the brink of this one admission. "I _was_ married. I'm divorced. I'm sorry, Chris, I keep forgetting that you don't remember anything I told you before the accident."

"How long have you been divorced?"

"Not long."

"Is this why you have a new flat?"

"Yes. I was a terrible husband. That's the whole story."

"Was she cruel to you?"

"I was the one who was cruel. She put up with me longer than she should have."

"_She threw you out?!"_

"Hardly. I left her. My final act of cruelty."

"You're not the cruel type. I don't believe a word of it."

Harry sipped his drink and considered this for a long moment, watching the candlelight reflect amber prisms in the glass. "There are times in our lives when we find ourselves in a dark place and the only way to crawl out of it is to find a ray of light and follow it." Harry reached across the table and took her hand in his. "I haven't been happy for a very long time. All of that has changed."

Christina squeezed his hand and then let go, moving her hand to lift her glass, attempting to mask her discomfort. "I can see how painful this topic is for you. I'm sorry you had to tell it twice."

"I hope it doesn't change anything."

Christina sighed and sipped her champagne again. "I don't know how to feel about this. I don't want to be your rebound."

Her words were a sharp blow of emotional devastation and Harry wished he could tell her how long they'd been friends, how highly he thought of her, and how much he respected her. He could say nothing factual to reassure her in this moment, and he felt his heart sink back into darkness. He rose from his seat. "If you think for a _second_ that I'd use you to get over someone else, then I'll leave you with your peace of mind. Good night, Christina. I shouldn't have come here."

Christina panicked as the front door opened, knowing he was about to walk out of her life for good. _"WAIT!"_

Harry hesitated in the doorway, his heart thumping, his expression one of misery. Without a word, he walked through the door, letting it fall closed behind him.

* * *

185


	15. Chapter 15: Through a Pane of Glass

**Part Two: Be Here Now**

_**Chapter 15: Through a Pane of Glass**_

_When the tears come streaming down your face,_

_When you lose something you can't replace,_

_When you love someone, but it goes to waste._

_could it be worse?_

_When you're too in love to let it go,_

_if you never try, you'll never know,_

_just what you're worth._

_Tears stream, down your face_

_when you lose something you cannot replace,_

_I promise you, I will look for my mistakes._

_Lights will guide you home…_

_and I will try,_

_to fix you._

~ Coldplay – _Fix You_

With such a striking and _different_ new look, it was hard not to shop for new things. She had money after all. Who knew where it came from, and who cared? Christina certainly didn't. It was in her name, wasn't it? As far as she was concerned, that made it hers and so she claimed the fortune as her own. Yet how had she acquired it? She was a penniless, teenaged runaway in her last solid memory, yet she awoke a wealthy and pampered woman who had a manicure _and_ a pedicure. She lived in an expensive flat in the most exclusive part of Manchester, and it was full of the finest of things, ugly though they were.

Eating garbage, sleeping on cardboard in the bitter rain, and washing her few ruined clothes in the loo of some service station were fresh in her mind, as though they'd happened only yesterday. But there was something else there, too, trapped under a pane of glass, floating to the surface, reaching out, and _familiar. _A glimpse, a key to the past, hovering only a moment before drifting beyond her vision, blending seamlessly with the deep shadows of nothingness. That trapped, forgotten part of her mind. The dark part.

Christina spoke under her breath as she browsed long, wispy skirts and fine, silken shawls. How had she gotten to this place in her life from the agony of destitution she remembered so well? "Somewhere between that and this lies a mystery."

A tall, waspish woman paused while dictating instructions for Christina's purchases to the humble clerk beside her. "Pardon me?"

"I think I'd like this one as well."

"Excellent choice, Miss Safford." She turned back to the young man and lowered her voice. "Give what you have to Sally, Henry. I'll need you back." Henry took his leave with an obedient nod and the woman returned her attention to Christina. "You have unusual taste, and I mean that as a compliment."

"Would you consider hiring me then?"

"You mean… to _work_ here?"

"Is that a no?"

"Of course it isn't. It's not everyday that my customers ask for a job. Actually, I can easily say that it's never happened."

"And why do you think that is?"

"Miss Safford, my merchandise is expensive and the women who buy it most often have no need of a job, nor would they want one."

"I've no friends here at all and I'm sitting around my flat all day, wishing for something constructive to occupy my time. My money is rather new to me, and I still know the value of working. I have to admit, I don't know much about fashion, but I do love this store."

"I prefer boutique."

"I love this _boutique_, then. Look, I understand that I might not work out, and so you could sack me whenever you see fit. I'd love to give it a try, though, if you'll have me."

The woman smiled. "If I sack you, you won't be upset? Even if it's your first day?"

"Upset, no. Disappointed, yes."

"Be here Monday at ten. If you're late, I'll sack you on the spot. I don't tolerate lateness from any of my employees, and if I treat you differently they'll have my head for it, you can be certain of that. Oh, and my name is Caroline. That's--"

"Henry and Sally?"

"Excellent memory, Miss Safford."

"It's Christina. And I think I'll be needing a lot more clothes."

* * *

"Well? What do _you_ want?"

"Stand aside, Potter. There's something we need to discuss."

"That depends on which one of them you have in mind."

Snape sneered. _"Both_, of course. Now get out of the way before someone sees me talking to you."

"Yes, they'd think you'd lost your mind and started keeping better company. As for me? This seems to be a haven for criminals. I have a few too many _Slytherins_ knocking on the door."

"There can _never_ be too many Slytherins."

Harry stepped back and allowed the man on the step entrance to his shop. "Just so you know; Ron and Hermione are due in just a few minutes."

"Then let's make this _quick._ Close the door, Potter."

Harry did, and led Snape up the stairs to his flat, not wanting him catching glimpses of anything he shouldn't in the office. He checked the locator while Snape looked around the flat in distaste. Ron and Hermione were still _Home_. So was Sara. _Strange,_ he thought, _how could she be?_

"This flat is _pathetic_. Absolutely nothing here belongs in a dump like this. It's all superior to the room_,_ mismatched, and I do believe that table belongs _outdoors. _Leaving Sara was an idiotic move on your part, and in more ways than one, it seems." Snape stepped closer, and there was a hint of righteous vindication in his eyes when he spoke. "Tell me, Potter, how does it feel to have _everything_ and lose it all?"

"You can't possibly make that situation any worse for me, so drop it why don't you?"

"The reason I'm here is because I need to know where Sara is. I'm sure she told you where she was going."

"Actually, no. I have no idea where she is, but if you manage to find her, I need to know that she's all right. That's all I ask."

"Can you reach Nikolae?"

"I imagine I would already know how she was if I could. I haven't seen him in weeks. Sara said he went away, and she didn't seem to think he'd be coming back anytime soon."

"I should have known you'd be _clueless_." Snape led them back down the stairs and to the front door. "Send word if you hear from her, but make your comments veiled. It's _important."_

Snape passed through the door and hurried away.

* * *

Christina piled bags all over the ugly bed and hurried into a new outfit, something a little warmer than what she'd worn to shop around town. A coat might be best, but since it was supposed to warm up later in the day, Christina selected a long, loose-knit sweater of black cashmere and silk over one of the long, full skirts She'd bought at Caroline's boutique. The fabrics were lush and beautiful, the clothes fine and exquisite, and Christina's smile lit her eyes as she admired her appearance. She couldn't linger, as much as she wanted to, so she added gold hoop earrings and some bangles she'd found. Christina smiled at her reflection and then placed a few of her new outfits into her bag, zipped it shut, and hurried back to the taxi, waiting at the curb.

She slid into the cab, out of breath, and laid the bag on the seat beside her. "The train station, please."

* * *

Hermione tipped her head, her eyes dark with concern. "All right, Harry?"

Harry realized he must look as miserable as he felt and made an effort to push Christina from his mind. As for Sara, there was no way he could shove his loneliness, regret, and mounting concern aside. He knew better than to even try. "It's nothing, Hermione. Same old."

"I'm worried about you."

"You shouldn't. You've got more important things to think about. I think I like Liam for a boy. What do you think?"

"I'm not naming the baby after a Quidditch player."

Harry grinned. "So _Victor's_ out of the question then?"

Hermione smiled with amusement. "Next you'll want me to call him 'Wood.'"

"Excellent name for a boy, that is."

Hermione burst out laughing. "Harry!"

Harry grinned again. "Well you're the one who said it!"

A bell jingled overhead as Ron came through the door, shaking rain off his jumper. "What's all _this_ about? Why do I always have to miss the joke?"

Harry laughed and pointed at Hermione. "She's trying to name the baby '_Wood."_

Ron grinned in reply. "That's a right good name for a chap."

"Ronald!"

"Well it was _your_ idea, wasn't it?"

"Well it was Harry's fault. Anyway, get yourself some tea. We've got something important to discuss."

Ron dumped cream and far too much sugar into his cup, gave it a stir, and walked with caution to his spot at the patio table in Harry's kitchen. "Where's Mariah?"

"She took a port key for a tour of some new wizarding university in Romania. They offered her a full scholarship!"

Hermione lit up. "Merlin University of Magical Study?! Harry, why didn't you say anything? That's wonderful!"

"I thought it was just some school, I guess."

"It's the only one of its kind in all of Europe. It opened just five years ago, but they have a stellar reputation. It's expensive, and they only accept the best students. You have to be _better_ than the best to get a full scholarship."

Ron took a bite of cherry scone. "Wow. Mariah must be even smarter than you, Hermione!"

"I got a letter from them before they even opened, remember?"

"Oh yeah. Forgot, I guess."

"Anyway, this is an enormous accomplishment. Don't forget to congratulate her!"

"We will. Got any marmalade, Harry? This scone's a bit dry."

Harry left his chair and returned with a jar of strawberry preserves Mariah had brought him. He handed it to Ron, and then turned to Hermione. She had lost her smile in the moments he'd been gone. Her eyes were now distant and troubled. "All right, Hermione?"

She sighed, heavy and resigned. "I found something in Malfoy's lab last night. Something we never even thought of, and it's upsetting to say the least."

Ron sneered. "Isn't everything about Malfoy upsetting?"

"I'm serious, Ron. _This_ is serious."

"Well, what is it then?"

"Do you remember the day we saw Draco in Flourish & Blott's?"

"Yeah."

"He was in an odd section of the store, so I got in a little closer and saw him buy a book."

"I remember. He didn't want anyone to see him with it and was being all sneaky about it."

"With good reason. Both seers were right, Harry. We were looking in the wrong direction." Hermione pulled a book from her bag and laid it on the table for them to inspect. "We've been wrong all along. Terribly, terribly wrong."

Ron read the title and fell back in his chair, subdued. "Holy Merlins, Hermione. This changes everything. Sara was right, then. Draco's innocent."

Harry stared at the book in silence. The morning light glinted off his glasses, hiding his eyes, but not his troubled expression.

Hermione sighed again. "It certainly looks that way. I can't believe how awful we treated him when he came here with Sara. We accused him of stealing our books, of giving out our passwords. Had I known, I would have handled it differently. Now the _real_ thieves have had weeks to do what they're planning and our investigation has been a waste of time. We were so busy blaming everything on Draco… What now? We're back at the beginning!"

Harry mumbled, somewhat despondent as he tore his eyes from the book and something painful and foreign turned in his chest. "Check the lists again."

"_What lists?_ We still don't understand that any more than we did before. Hawthorn is a crazy drunk, Harry. Don't put faith in what she says."

"But she was right! She said the exact words Sara said, _we're looking in the wrong direction,_ and Sara's no loony. I want to look into it. You don't have to help."

"Of course I'll help, but now we need to figure out what to do about Draco. Harry, Ron, we can't tell the minister about this. We can't tell _anyone."_

Harry sighed. "Smidgeon won't lift the indictment over this. The only thing we can do is figure out who's behind it all."

Ron looked at his half-eaten scone with lackluster disinterest. "And how do we do that, mate?"

"We check the lists again."

* * *

It was a little scary, being in Diagon Alley. Passers-by gave her a wide berth, along with scornful or disapproving glances. Sara wondered what inspired such distrust? Draco, or the freak storm she'd caused outside Harry's office a few weeks before? Maybe it was both? No matter which, the hurt of being cast-out was the same.

Sara held her breath as she knocked, making note to get the bell fixed for Harry when all this blew over. Sara wasn't sure how well received she'd be, if she was received at all, and her highest hope was for him to be alone.

The door whipped open, startling Sara as Ron came running out, almost knocking her down in his hurry.

"Sara! Didn't see you there! All right?"

"I'm fine. You?

"I'm late getting back to work. I'd see you up, but I'd rather not get sacked."

"Yes, I can see Hermione's face now," Sara smiled. She accepted a quick hug and kissed his cheek. "Off with you then! Hurry!"

Ron gave her a sad half-smile. "Come home, Sara. Harry's worried sick! We all are, actually."

"I'm fine, Ron, no need to worry. Now go! You're late!"

Ron disapperated and Sara's spirit sank. She missed spending whole days in the company of Ron and Hermione. And Harry. Yes, she missed Harry more than she could ever describe. Harry had closed the book on their lives together, but she couldn't close the book on Harry. Her bond with Harry was too deep to comprehend, and he would always be the closest thing to her heart. Sara turned the knob and let herself in.

Surprise lit his face and Harry stepped back to allow her entry. "Sara! What are you doing here? _Are you alright?"_

Sara threw her arms around him, flooded with relief at the sight of him, and Harry held her close until she pulled away.

Harry kissed her cheek. "Is everything all right?"

"Not exactly. I'm fine, Harry, but Draco isn't. I need to talk to Severus and it's urgent. I need to use your fireplace."

"Funny, he was here this morning, wanting to talk to you. Must be rather important for you to come out of hiding."

Sara sighed and crossed the room. She came to stand before the windows with her back to Harry, watching the cobblestone street below through a pane of glass. "Please don't be like that. I'm held together by will alone right now, and I can't argue with you."

"I haven't seen you in weeks! And _look_ at you! You're skin and bones, your clothes are a shambles. You look _ill,_ Sara! And have you seen your hair?"

"I've seen it."

"You need to come home."

"You know I can't. Not yet."

"We need all the help we can get. Our books are missing. We're no closer to a solution than we were before it happened. We've been following worthless leads, chasing ghosts in the fog, and where are you? Sara, the spell books belong to all four of us, _including you,_ and _everything's_ at stake!"

Sara's voice was laced with tears and she bowed her head before the windows. "Harry, don't. Please. _Not today_._"_

Harry realized she was trying not to cry and his anger fell to pieces. "What did he do this time?"

Sara dropped onto the couch and let her head fall into her hands. "If I tell you something, will you promise to keep it to yourself?"

"You know I will."

"He almost died, Harry. He was so _sick_, I can't even explain. He'd be dead right now if I hadn't checked on him when I did, and if he gets sick again, I don't know how I'll handle it. The potions I brew affect him little more than pumpkin juice. He needs Severus. I don't know what else to do. I'm afraid for him."

"Has he told you what's wrong with him?"

"Some allergy complication. He won't tell me anything else."

"He won't tell you? But… I thought that's why you were helping him?!"

"I'm helping him because he's my friend, and because I'm convinced of his innocence. I'd do the same for Hermione or Ron. Draco can't care for himself, Harry. He'd be dead if I hadn't been there last night. That makes it impossible for me to leave him now. I know what might happen if I do and I refuse to live with that."

"Sara, we've been warned by the ministry. You can come and go as you please, but if any of us help you, we'll be arrested. We all protested, of course, but Smidgeon won't budge. He said helping you is helping Malfoy, and helping him is a crime. I'm sorry, but there isn't much we can do."

"He'll die if he goes to Azkaban." Sara sniffled and Harry took her hand.

"What if I told you Draco has a secret and I know what it is? Would you want to know?"

"How could you know? Nikolae said only one other person knew besides him, and that would be Severus. He won't even tell _me!"_

"Hermione found something in his house. She's lying down in my room. She wasn't feeling well, but I can ask her to explain it."

"Let her rest. Besides, I'd prefer it if Draco told me. I want to hear it from him."

"Understandable."

"I'll talk to him when I get back, but right now, I need Severus."

"The powder is on the mantle."

Sara tossed some into the flames, waited for them to turn green, and then stuck her head in the fire. "Severus! Are you there?"

Snape came around the sofa and knelt before the grate. "Sara! What's happened?"

"He's worse! He's ever so much worse, and there's nothing left!"

"I should probably warn you that we're not alone." Snape sneered over his shoulder at Smidgeon, who came around the couch and smiled.

"Hello, Mrs. Potter."

"I'm divorced, Minister, and I'm sorry, but this is a private conversation."

"I'm sorry as well, because when the two of you decided to help the prime suspect in a criminal investigation evade capture, you gave up your right to a private conversation."

Sara glared at him. "Fine then." She turned back to Snape. "I assume they're snooping through your mail as well?"

Snape sneered at Smidgeon again, and then turned back to Sara. "It's rather annoying. I've been trying to send an urgent, _confidential_, package to St. Mungo's for weeks, but they insist on opening it. I can't breach my confidentiality agreement with the hospital, and so the young man has gone without his remedies. Ridiculous!"

Sara smiled, knowing he'd been trying to get that package to Draco, but had been thwarted by ministry officials. She smiled wider as an idea came to her. "Severus, do you remember the day we met?"

"Of course I do. I'm not senile, you know!" Snape faltered, realizing what she was trying to tell him. He gave her a knowing smile. "It was on the day you came to Hogwarts, in the Headmaster's office. You were sick, so I made you a potion."

As he'd just told a blatant lie, Sara breathed relief, knowing he'd understood the reference. "I'm sorry, Severus. I'm not comfortable with him listening to everything we say. I missed you is all, but I think we'll be cutting this short. It was so nice to see you."

"Stay safe, Sara. This will all be over soon. They're bound to realize they're after the wrong person _eventually."_

Smidgeon shifted, uncomfortable, on the arm of the couch.

Sara looked to Snape again. "You must find Sylvia and Bellatrix."

"I'll do what I can from here."

"Hurry. Draco needs to come home." Sara pulled her head from the flames and sat there on the floor until Harry helped her to her feet.

He dropped some heavy coins in her pocket and hugged her close. His voice dropped to a whisper. "It's all I have."

"You don't have to, Harry. I know how you feel about all this."

"I can't have you suffer on his account."

Sara lowered her head in humility. She knew she was skin and bones, that she didn't look well, and that her clothes were ragged, but seeing the pity in Harry's eyes brought it home in the most excruciating of ways. She wiped her eyes and squeezed his hand.

Harry squeezed back and held it tight, lowering his voice to a whisper once more. "Dead Nexus is playing at Slytherin Spirits two weeks from tonight. Meet me there and I'll give you more."

"I'll be there."

"Be careful until then, Sara. _Promise me_ you'll be careful."

"I will. Thank you. For everything." Sara kissed his cheek and hurried through the door, stopping once to give him one last pained smile. "Bye, Harry."

* * *

Scanning through old copies of _The London Times_ was tedious work, and not the most exciting way to begin her trip, but Christina had an insatiable curiosity, the will to get it done, and a bloody enormous coffee. Besides, she was only interested in the last month. It shouldn't take too long. It was also the key starting point for her investigation, and Christina refused to return on the train empty-handed.

Four weeks worth of editions, that's what she was to go through, scanning the pages of each for any mention of a casting call in London. There were a few, and she had written them down, but not many would be of interest to her. Many were only asking for men, and a few were for children. She would check them if she needed to, but there were two that looked a little more promising and she would visit them first.

Christina lifted the half-empty coffee and took another sip. It was cold, bitter, and too dark for her taste, but something caught her eye and she set the cup back down. It wasn't a casting call, but something far more interesting.

She'd seen this photo before, but had missed the most obvious detail. There it was, right in the front, attached to the back of her mangled car. It was a photo of the accident site, and of her license plate.

Christina spoke under her breath in the deserted archive. "You idiot! It was there all along!" She grabbed a pen and scribbled the number onto her notepad. "It doesn't seem like I've lived in my flat very long. Maybe I didn't have time to change my information." She sighed and abandoned her station, dropping the coffee into the trash on her way out.

The London streets were crowded, as they usually were on a Sunday morning. Church had just let out, cars lumbered from errand to errand, and people were out for a stroll, since the rain had stopped at long last. She shivered in the chill of the day, overcast and depressing, and wished she'd worn the new coat she'd considered before leaving home. Her thoughts were interrupted as a man caught her eye. He was dressed in a plain black overcoat and a fedora hat with a bright feather. His hair was blackish and long, his nose thin and pointy, like his chin. Christina grew nervous. The hat had caught her attention the moment she'd seen it – in Manchester. He'd been on the train to London, and now here he was again, outside the library. He glanced away when he realized Christina was looking at him.

Why would anyone be following _her?_ It made no sense. She was no one special, after all. Just a girl who used to live in the streets. The doctor's warning came back to her and Christina's breath caught in her throat. She pulled her bag close and her hand gripped the memory notebook inside.

_Don't show that book to anyone. Don't leave it out where the maid can see it…_

Christina was being watched and her doctor had known it. But why? Did it have something to do with the money? The money had given her pause more than once, and now she feared it. There was no other reason to spy on a nobody like her. Or was there? What sordid memory was her mind blocking?

The research into her past was more important now than it was ten minutes ago, and so Christina hurried down the sidewalk, glimpsing at her blonde image in the windows as she passed, glancing over her shoulder now and again. The fedora followed her down the street, fifty steps back, and no longer conspicuous. He knew she'd seen him, and had taken a bolder approach. Her steps picked up, and so did his. Christina began to panic and feared for her safety. Without thought, she hurried over to a policeman.

"Excuse me, officer, but that man is following me. The one in the fedora hat."

The cop looked around and his expression grew confused. "I don't see any hat."

Christina turned to point him out with a bold finger, but he was gone. There were no doors on that stretch of the sidewalk, no place for him to duck into, traffic was too heavy for him to have crossed, and he hadn't walked past. He'd simply vanished. "Thank you, but I must have scared him off by talking to you."

The cop gave her a smile. "Sometimes that's all it takes. If you see him again, I advise you do the same."

Christina nodded and hurried away, glancing around for the man, but he was gone now, gone in an inexplicable manner. Christina sighed as she walked. If only she could call Harry. She'd feel safer with him around, but she'd said something wrong and he'd walked out of her life it seemed. She had to find some way to contact him. After all, Harry was her only friend. Without him, she was alone.

* * *

Sara would hex him all the way to Canada if she knew he was in her parents' bedroom; a place where the doors were always closed and access forbidden, but she was out, he was still feeling well from the remedy, he was bored, and curiosity had gotten the best of him. Draco kept one ear open for the back door as he wandered about the room. It was a large room, quaint though it was. Polished wood walls, heavy drapes, and a deep carpet gave it warmth. Photos and art gave it character, and exquisite furnishings gave it an air of class.

Her mother's nightgown was still draped across the foot of the bed, as if she might come in any moment to change. A thin layer of dust clung to it and Draco understood why Sara had locked the room, why she couldn't bear to disturb this space. He couldn't bear to, either, and so he touched nothing, only looked. A photo on a stand beside the bed caught his eye, and Draco stooped to look at it, blowing away the dust with a gentle breath. A much younger Sara stood with her mother and father at some festive celebration. The two women wore expensive gowns and their long white hair was identical. Sara was every bit as beautiful as her mother was, and held the same kindness in her eyes. A pained smile touched his expression and Draco moved away from the photo, understanding the loss that Sara felt.

There was a hairbrush on the vanity and a few long strands of gossamer still remained trapped within it, as if it had been used only this morning. His eye wandered to the many vials along the back of the table, and Draco hesitated. There were potions here to change the color of one's hair to black, brown, or red. Draco did touch these, and a plan began to form. He could easily slip out and return after the potion wore off. It was genius, actually, and Draco held his breath as he disturbed the dust. He was careful, of course, and Sara wouldn't notice because she refused to come in here. Guilt leapt up within him as he realized the enormity of his trespass, so he was quick to swallow a few drops, watched his hair turn an ordinary shade of brown, and hurried out of the room.

There was no money for a taxi. There wasn't even money for food, so Draco walked to the subway in the hopes of an easy out, even though the subway was a vile place he'd hoped never to visit again. It was filthy. _Beyond_ filthy, actually. It stank, and being crammed into a car full of dirty, smelly, foul commoners assaulted his senses. The very thought of putting himself into such a distasteful situation a second time nearly sent him back up the stairs to the street, especially since Sara wasn't there to make the journey somewhat pleasant this time. However, the hair-changing potion wouldn't last forever. He had to be as quick as possible, and so Draco used his wand to lift a pass from the pocket of a random teenager, who was too busy checking her face in a tiny mirror to notice.

The train was at the platform when he arrived at the bottom of the stairs, and Draco bolted across it, slipping through the doors just as they closed. The car was packed with a strange assortment of people again; most of them in need of a good long bath, and all the seats were taken. Draco drew his handkerchief and used it to hold the rail, unable to force himself to touch it with a bare hand.

They could use only the smallest amounts of magic, and only when necessary, if they were to remain undetected. Otherwise, he might have sterilized the rail. The thing was; he'd used magic to get on the subway. He didn't dare risk it again so soon, especially since he might need his wand to do what he'd come to do.

Minutes passed, though it seemed like much longer. When one was crammed into an underground train with the dregs of society, time tended to creep by, as if he was trapped in a nightmare and couldn't wake. Relief flooded him when the doors opened and people pushed in as others, himself included, pushed out. As the train spilled onto the platform, Draco hurried up the stairs and onto the street, keeping close to random groups of average looking strangers, hoping to avoid drawing any sort of attention. Keeping a low profile was everything right now. It was _imperative_.

He had arrived at an ideal location, but the problem was, which one? He hadn't come with a particular place in mind. He'd been too sick to leave the house, and now he had a decision to make. The most obvious was the worst choice. The element of surprise was what he needed, and little corner groceries tended to be prepared for this sort of thing. So did upscale stores, most of which posted a guard at the door, and for this to succeed, no one could get hurt.

Draco decided his best choice was a souvenir shop on a busy stretch of walk. There was plenty of traffic outside, but the shop itself wasn't busy. Draco crossed the street.

It only took a few seconds to rob the place. One moment he was watching the clerk empty cash into a plastic sack as the patrons and other employees crowded together with their hands in the air toward the back of the store, the next, Draco was stuffing the money into his coat. A moment after that, he was running through the crosswalk and back into the subway. He'd gotten away with it!

However, he wasn't stupid. His getaway was nothing more than a diversion. He had no plans to get on a train, just so authorities could be waiting to corner him at any given station. Instead, Draco crossed the platform and took the stairs to the next street corner. He traveled on foot for a couple of blocks, ducked into a doorway, and removed the heavy jacket he wore. He was quick to scoop the many bills into a pile and this he shoved in the pocket of his trousers. His heart finally began to slow, but Draco knew he had to get out of there, and he had to do it _now_. He took a deep, calming breath as he folded the jacket and slid it into the black plastic sack. Draco stood and straightened his dark green jumper before stepping back onto the walk. Central Park, and safety, were a quick taxi ride away.

The potion lasted three hours. Three long, excruciating, maddening hours full of anxiety, uncertainty, and fear. A few times he'd almost made the decision to go home and risk having Sara discover that he'd disregarded her wishes and gone in her parents' room, which was akin to walking across their graves in her eyes. Worse, it was a disrespect to Sara that he regretted with a heart heavy with guilt and shame, and he preferred that she never know. The thought of her throwing him out on the street, turning her back on him and returning to England kept him on the bench, watching the ducks.

* * *

Entering a wizarding market shouldn't be so frightening. It was just some shops after all, hidden from muggle eyes. However, Sara had never been here before, and this was the only one her parents had ever disclosed to her. Most of her fear came from the fact that her parents had come here many times, without her, and warned her away from such places. They'd explained that entering the tree in Central Park was equal to announcing one's existence and whereabouts to those one wanted to avoid the most. Sara dreaded the thought. She looked very much like her mother, after all. What if she was recognized? What if her presence here was made known to the British authorities?

She knew her parents' warnings were meant to quell her curiosity and shield her from Voldemort, but they lingered in her still. Growing up, she'd considered the Central Park market to be an unwelcoming place full of danger, but she had need of it now and so Sara did her best to brush her distrust aside. Harry had given her galleons. Had she brought them to Gringott's, she would have risked implicating and incriminating him, and she had no use for wizard gold in muggle America. She would have to exchange them here, whether she liked it or not.

She'd known the password all her life, yet Sara's voice trembled as she placed her hand on the tree and spoke. Having no idea of what to expect, Sara stepped into the tree, and into a ramshackle dirt cave.

The floor was oiled and hard-packed from years and years of traffic. There was a long row with three shops on either side, and a larger establishment at the end of a wide corridor. At least three dozen witches and wizards mingled around, some sitting at small tables off to the side, some chatting in groups of four or five, some browsing the merchandise, which was crammed into tight little spaces. Baskets, brooms, and cauldrons hung from the shoring. All of it was old, dirty, and covered in cobwebs.

The stores themselves resembled something out of an old movie, each similar to the head of a mineshaft. Worn, rough wooden beams nailed together in haphazard fashion created wide doorways into dilapidated rooms, piled with dusty wares. She'd known better than to think it would be as spectacular as Diagon Alley, which was the only one of its kind, but this was little more than a hole in the ground. Sara had expected this place to be small, however, seven dingy shops in an underground row was far less than she'd hoped for. The mood was dark and most of the patrons looked as though they'd stepped straight out of Knockturn Alley. Sara grew nervous and tried to act as natural as possible.

As conspicuous as she tried to be, it was no use. Sara had always attracted attention, if not for her hair color alone, but here she was, a stranger no one had ever seen before. Every eye was on her. Malice radiated from the silence, and Sara's nervousness turned toward fear.

…_who does she think she is, coming in here…_

…_she's got no business here…_

…_who gave her the password…_

…_she's up to no good…_

…_let's cut off her hair, it'll fetch a good price…_

Sara did her best to ignore the ill attention she drew and browsed the pile of grimy merchandise piled inside the first hovel. Snickers and whispered asides resonated behind her back, and Sara got two impressions. The first was that this was no longer a friendly market. The other was that she wasn't welcome.

"Excuse me, sir, but can you tell me where I might exchange galleons for dollars?" Sara held her breath, hoping his answer would be quick and to the point.

The man showed her a sly, slippery grin. "I don't carry no muggle money, miss, but you might have some luck with Maggie, down on the end there." He pointed a crooked, dirt-stained finger down the corridor.

"Thank you." Sara took a deep breath and walked straight through the middle of the crowd, smiling at those whose eye she caught in a friendly gesture. Only one smiled back. A single man stood aside from the rest, leaning against the far wall. His eyes didn't threaten, only watched her with a hint of wonder and curiosity. She turned her gaze away, uncomfortable. She knew better than to mistake his bemused expression for kindness. They could be nothing other than dark wizards, and the sooner she got this over with, the better. As it was, she and Draco needed this money far more than she needed a feeling of security. Leaving without it wasn't an option she was willing to consider.

Sara had reached the shop at the end of the row and realized she was trapped as thirty witches and wizards crowded in behind her, blocking the only means of exit. Sara waited while the greasy little twitch called Maggie counted out her money as the lynch mob closed in. Her heartbeat quickened as wands were drawn and fear flooded her senses. The Orb of Arassel erupted with pinkish light on her finger.

Harry had always taught her to remain calm in a perilous situation, and Sara had long ago learned to smile in the face of overwhelming odds. She did so now, and turned to face her would-be attackers. "I want you to know that I could kill you all with a flick of my wrist, so will you stand aside?"

Many puzzled faces wondered at their loss of magical ability, though many still tried hurling curses at her.

Sara smiled wider. "I didn't think so."

The air crackled with static as Sara beckoned it, drew it to her aid, as lines of concentration creased her brow. Throwing enough lightning to stun three dozen people was no easy task, and with her newfound confidence, Sara was blindsided by a move no one had ever before thought to consider. Someone tossed a length of cloth over her shoulder, draping her arm, and the ring she wore. The light of the Orb was snuffed out and Sara found herself crashing hard to the floor, crying out with the pain of some Dark curse. Sara was too slow to shake it off before she was hit with another, but this time she was quick to erect a protective ward of static electricity. The very same she'd used to protect herself and Christina from Voldemort so many years ago. Now that she had time to collect herself, Sara climbed to her feet, throwing the cloth to the floor. "I resent that," she seethed and once again drew her lightning. Anger had a way of speeding the process.

A small voice came from behind. "Resent _this!"_

Just as Sara send a rolling, near-lethal blanket of electricity through the crowd before her, she was struck in the back of the head, hard, and with purpose. In all the commotion, she'd forgotten the withered old wraith who'd exchanged her money. One word escaped her as the world turned black and she collapsed to the floor.

_Maggie._

* * *

"Spooky! Enough of that racket!"

The owl continued to hoot and flap her wings as if a predator was near and Snape hesitated. "What is it?" He stepped closer and saw that Spooky was tethered to her perch. Snape drew his wand. "Who's there? Show yourself this instant!"

A shadow grew across the floor in the light of the sconces and Snape braced himself for a duel.

Her hands were raised in an unthreatening gesture. Her long hair hung in sleek sheets of black ice over her shoulders, and she wore a black dress under her cloak that fit her slender frame to perfection. "Don't get your hackles up, Severus, it's only me."

Snape lowered his wand. "Half the ministry's looking for you, so I have to admit, I can't help wondering what you're doing here."

Sylvia smiled at the question and lowered her hands. "Looking for you, of course. I've missed you, Severus."

"You've found me, unfortunately."

Sylvia lowered her eyes. "Don't be that way. I've come to you for help."

"Turn yourself in. That's the only help you'll get from me. You won't fool me twice."

"They'll kill me if I turn myself in. You have to protect me. It's my only chance."

"Perhaps you didn't hear me. I said I wouldn't fall for your nonsense a second time. Consider your coercion tactics _ineffective."_

"This is no trick. You must believe me."

"I must do nothing of the kind. Draco's life is in danger thanks to you, and Sara risks herself every day to protect him."

"I had nothing to do with it! I swear! Please, Severus. I know you well. You would never turn your back on a friend."

"Anyone who would bring harm to _either_ of them is no friend of mine."

Sylvia came forward and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Bellatrix has put a curse on me, and forced me to submit to a binding. If I tell you their plans, something unthinkable will happen. Otherwise I'd have told you long before now. If I so much as attempt it, I won't be able to finish the sentence."

"And why would you wait so long to tell me of this situation? You know there's a counter-curse for everything. It's too late for that now."

"I didn't tell you before now because the curse is rather new. Until They forced me from your house, the curse was on you." Sylvia let her hand fall from his shoulder and turned away to hide watery eyes. "I couldn't bear to let anything happen to you."

"_How touching."_

"Severus, _please!"_

Snape grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him. "I've had enough of your lies and treachery. You will give me the location of Bellatrix and her company of Death Eaters or straight to Azkaban you go. Smidgeon is right upstairs, and since I was forced to help Draco escape, the school is crawling with ministry officials. One shout from me and you're as good as arrested." Snape raised his wand again and pointed it at the woman he loved. "The location. _Now."_

"I told you, the curse! I can't say a word about it!"

"Then to Azkaban you go."

Sylvia used the element of surprise to stun Snape long enough to run from the room. He did his best to shake it off, but he could hear her heels clicking in the hall outside as she ran down the corridor. The echoes stopped, abrupt, there was a thud, and then all was silent.

* * *

It was magnificent, beautiful, and _enormous._ Had she ever really lived in this gorgeous mansion? As Christina stood on the walk outside, looking in through the black iron fence, the vision she'd seen came back to her. The house of loneliness and despair, the one so dark and looming in her scattered, murky memory. This was that house, she was certain of it.

The gate was locked, as expected. She no longer lived here, but why? To whom did this house belong? Why had she moved back to Manchester? And _when?_ Had she lived here alone? Something told her the answer to that was both yes and no. The emotions that had overwhelmed her were clearly marked in the book she carried. Someone here had hurt her in some way.

Christina tried to scale the tall iron bars, but to no avail. She fell hard to the ground, as if some unseen force had shoved her back, denying her entrance. Christina stood and glanced around the street atop the hill. A single car idled near-by. A fedora hat with a bright feather hunkered behind the wheel.

Without a second thought, Christina fled back down the hill, running as fast as her feet could carry her until she made it to the pizza shop on the corner, Vincenzo's. The very pizza shop from her last vivid memory, on the roof of which she used to live. She hovered outside for a moment, peeking around the corner to see if the man with the hat had followed. He hadn't, but her shout of surprise drew a few curious glances as a great blackbird landed on her shoulder and squawked in her ear. Christina froze in a moment of terror, but then calmed enough to breathe again.

An elderly gentleman making his way into the shop on a well-worn cane smiled in her direction. "Running around a bit might scare 'im off."

""No no, he's mine," she explained. "He just frightened me." Without understanding, Christina knew this was true. The bloody enormous bird _was_ hers, though she didn't recall owning him, or even what his name was.

_The raven._

It resonated through her mind, as if some inner voice had spoken the words for her conscious mind to hear. Another phantom from beneath the glass that separated her memory. "It's a raven."

The old man chuckled. "Just like in the poem."

"Yes."

"I don't know about that, looks like a big crow to me, but then Poe never wrote much about crows, did he?"

"No, I suppose he didn't. Here, let me get the door for you."

Christina held it open as the old man crossed the threshold with a slow shuffle. As he passed, she looked long and hard at his face. Her voice was low when she spoke, but he heard her all the same. "I know you."

* * *

"It's about time you woke up. I was starting to wonder."

Sara sat up and rubbed the back of her head, swollen, achy, and matted with blood. "Where am I?"

"38th Street and Broadway. Well, _near_ Broadway anyhow. That was some trick you pulled. You'll have to teach it to me in exchange for saving your life."

"Who are you? What's going on? Why am I here?"

The strange man ignored Sara's questions and handed her a glass of water instead. "What were you thinking?"

Sara studied his gaunt, bearded face, framed with unwashed, light brown hair. She considered his cold, hazel eyes, and the wrinkles that were cropping up around them. "I don't know what you mean."

"Perhaps you'll think clearer with a headache potion?"

"It's a possibility. My head feels like it was drop kicked by David Beckham."

"Do you remember anything that's happened?"

Sara thought for a long moment before realization lit her expression. "The Central Park market! I was attacked!"

"Why were you there to begin with? Are you crazy, stupid, or do you have a death wish? Only an _idiot_ would dare walk into that place without a slew of aurors, and to exchange currency of all things!"

"The money!" Sara's hands flew through her pockets until they touched on a folded stack of bills and she breathed relief. "Thank Merlin! I thought for certain it would be gone."

"You haven't answered any of my questions. What were you doing there?"

"I was there to exchange money, of course. Why is it so odd to you that a witch was in a wizarding market? I mean, it's rather commonplace in my opinion."

"That's no wizarding market. It used to be, but it's fallen into darker hands over the years."

"If that's the case, then what were _you_ doing there? I remember you standing against the far wall. You were watching me."

"Wasn't everybody?"

"But… how did you get me out of there? I don't understand. What happened after Maggie hit me in the head?"

"Stupid move on your part, speaking of Maggie. Turning your back on an enemy is a sure way to lose a fight, squib or otherwise. The most feeble-minded muggle could have cracked your skull just as easily. As for how I got you out of there, well, that was the easy part. Whatever spells you cast knocked most of them out cold, and killed a few I suspect. Impressive, whatever it was. Anyway, a handful remained and they wanted you dead. I stunned them, threw you over my shoulder, and ran for it."

"Why?"

"Tell me, would your name happen to be Lemke?"

Sara took in a sharp breath, her eyes wide.

"I'll take that as a yes. You look exactly like your mother."

"How could you be welcome in a Dark market, yet know good people like my parents?"

"I wouldn't say I'm _welcome_ there, they're just accustomed to my presence. My aunt used to own the shop next to Maggie's. I've been there my entire life, basically, and I have a way of getting along with either side of the fence. Your parents used to come in once in a while. It was many years ago now, but men don't often forget a face like Diana Lemke's. I wouldn't know your father if I fell over him."

Sara stiffened and a shadow crossed behind her eyes. "They're dead. You won't be falling over anyone, I'm sorry to say."

"I know. I'm sorry. Bad wording I guess. I'm Martin. Martin Adamo."

"Sara. And I would appreciate it if you'd forget you ever met me."

"On the run, eh?"

"Sort of. I've done nothing wrong, if that's what you mean, but there are people who don't need to know where I am. In fact, I need to be on my way."

"I imagine you're staying in the house near the park?"

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not."

"Meet me tomorrow at the corner of 8th and Madison, nine pm, and I'll keep your little secret."

"And if I say no?"

"There are plenty of pissed off evil-doers who would love to make your re-acquaintance."

"You saved my life just to threaten me?"

"Not exactly, but I _did_ do you a favor, and I'd like one in return. If a threat will get you there, then a threat it is, but I'd prefer if you just said yes. You're awful hostile for someone who should be dead right now. A little gratitude wouldn't hurt."

"I apologize, Martin. Thank you for helping me. I'll meet you tomorrow night, but I can't promise I'll do what you want."

"I'll accept that… for now. Come on, I'll walk you home."

"I can see myself out, thanks."

* * *

"Draco?"

"I'm in here!"

Sara hung her cloak in the hall closet and headed for the kitchen, toward the sound of his voice. Passing a doorway, Sara glanced inside to see the dining room table set for an elegant dinner. The fine china, the best crystal, roses, and long, white tapers brought a smile to her face. "Are you _cooking?_ It smells fantastic!"

Draco started screaming.

Sara bolted through the house, only to find him at the chopping block with knife in hand. Bright red threads of blood spilled down his arm. Sara smiled. "Blood pudding, is it?"

Draco went on shrieking.

Sara grabbed a clean towel from a drawer and did her best to clean the wound. It appeared rather shallow and it was hard to keep from laughing at the way he carried on.

"Sara… I think I'm going to pass out. I'm feeling woozy."

"Well, if you do, you'll smack your head to boot. I suggest sitting down instead. Here. Hold this towel tight over the cut. Apply pressure and the bleeding will stop. Quit _breathing_ like that. You sound like you're about to burst into tears and, if you do, I'll tell everyone you're a sissy."

"I'm no sissy! I'm just not accustomed to bleeding. I don't like the sight of it, actually."

"You're fine."

"What do _you_ know? You're not the one who nearly chopped off their own finger! Keep it up, Sara, laugh away! I'll be eating dinner alone tonight, I think!"

"Where did you get all this?! Those are _steaks_, Draco! I left you with a dollar and some change!"

Draco gave her a nervous smile, staring straight at the blood-stained towel to keep from meeting her eyes. "I can be resourceful when I need to be."

Sara knelt before him and raised his chin to look at her. Her voice was gentle and low, sympathetic. "We _can't_ steal anymore. Not only is it wrong, but we're going to get caught. What if someone shoots you while you're running away? This is serious. It isn't a game."

"We have to eat."

"True, but that's not the way. Victimizing innocent people isn't something I'm willing to do, I only did it out of necessity, and if you do it again, I'm sorry, but we'll have no choice but to go home."

Draco forgot all about the cut on his finger. He grew animate, flustered, desperate and angry. "This is _nonsense!_ We're better than this! Neither one of us should have to stoop to starving to death, wearing the same ratty clothes _every day,_ and stealing from muggles! For Merlin's sake, Sara, I won't have you living like this!"

Sara stood and paced the floor. "I made this choice, you know. I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I refuse to let us become despicable. You're right, we're better than that, and I don't suppose it would kill us to be real people for once in our lives. Draco, people everywhere live like this all the time. I hate to say it, but a little humility wouldn't hurt you. You're spoiled, Draco, and so am I."

"We're not spoiled, we're rich."

"Not anymore we're not. Not until your name is cleared. In the meantime, Mr. Resourceful, we'll just have to find another way to manage."

"And how do you suppose we do that? We don't have any money!"

"I'll get a job."

"I refuse to let you work! It's unthinkable!"

"I don't see where we have a choice in the matter. You'd be sacked in a week with the way you've been sick lately. Besides, I'm a registered muggle. I have all the documents one needs to get a job in the muggle world and, according to muggles, you don't exist. I would call that an issue."

"Sara… I can't let you do this. Snape will send the remedies. I'll manage to work if I need to. Besides, I'm a wizard. I'll use a bit of glamour and fake the documents."

"And how do you propose to do that? Are you going to fake yourself into the national databases? Fake your way into the social security system? Fake a driver's license? Citizenship?"

"Umm…"

"I'll get a job. I really don't mind and it's the only logical solution."

"What will you do? Tell fortunes? You'd scare the hell out of people with accuracy, and I don't think muggles would know what to do with an auror."

"I can sing, last I knew anyway."

Draco considered the idea for a long, quiet moment. "I can live with that. Singing is one thing, but no labor, Sara, I won't have it. And you sing like nothing I've ever seen. In fact, you might want to tone it down a bit or you'll draw far too much attention."

"It's settled then. I'll get a job in the morning. Until then, the smell of those steaks is going to drive me mad."

"Why do you have blood in your hair? What happened to you!? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I'll explain it all later. Here, let me heal your finger, you finish dinner, and I'll go get cleaned up. I'll see you in ten minutes."

* * *

"I didn't know you knew how to work a muggle radio. We shouldn't use the electricity, but I suppose that little bit won't hurt. It's nice."

"Perhaps you should dance with me then?"

Sara smiled. "I thought you'd never ask."

Draco pulled her chair from the table and helped her from her seat. "Would you like to finish your champagne?"

"I'll finish it after. Dinner was wonderful. You did well."

"Thanks for lying. The salad was good, the asparagus was rubber, the hollandaise was glue, and the steak tasted like an old shoe. I forgot to tell you; I've never cooked before."

"I was so hungry I didn't notice anything was wrong with it." Sara placed her hand in his and let him lead her around the room to a warm, inviting sonata. "If you've never cooked before, then your dinner was stellar. I'd love to see what you could do with a little practice."

"I'll cook for you again. Tomorrow night, let's make dinner together."

Sara gave him a warm smile in the candlelight and laid her head on his shoulder. "I'd like that."

* * *


	16. Chapter 16: Truth, Lies & Consequences

_**The **__**G**__**irl in the Tower 2: Home By the Sea**_

_**Chapter 16: Truth, Lies, & Consequences**_

Harry, Ron, and Hermione jumped when Yates burst into the office, his cheeks red with anger, his white lab coat flapping out behind him. He slammed _The Daily Prophet_ down on Harry's desk and pounded a furious finger on the headline.

"What did I tell you?" Yates paced the room, too livid to stand still, turning from one blank face to the next. "I've been saying it all along and now it couldn't be more obvious!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "The conspiracy to liberate Azkaban?"

"Keep laughing, Weasley. You won't be for long."

Hermione looked to Harry for an explanation. "I haven't read it yet. What does it say? Ron, get our copy out of my bag?"

Harry lifted the front page. _"Dementors Flee Azkaban. Ministry Not Concerned."_

Ron was incredulous. _"Not concerned?_ The guards are abandoning their posts and they couldn't care less? Maybe old Slinky's not so paranoid after all."

Yates rolled his eyes. "I'm not paranoid, Weasley. I pay attention is all. I'm no idiot savant, programmed by the government to do and say as I'm told. Sometimes it pays to read between the lines, but this one's rather obvious, I'm afraid. Even the reporter raises questions."

Hermione unfolded her paper and began to read aloud. _"In past weeks, a significant number of Dementors have disappeared from Azkaban Prison. It is unclear whether the most effective guards in history have abandoned their stations or met with foul play. Rumors and theories abound, though Minister of Magic, Julian Smidgeon, urges citizens of the wizarding community to remain calm. "Everything is under control," Smidgeon said during a conference last night. "There are still plenty of Dementors in place at Azkaban."_

"_This reporter is confused by Smidgeon's statement, having personally written several articles detailing a shortage of Dementors and an ever-growing prison over-population that is, as of yet, unresolved. According to ministry officials, no new guards have been appointed since the Sirius Black escape more than fourteen years ago. _

"_Smidgeon appeared flustered under heavy questioning and ended the conference without offering a single explanation as to what the ministry plans to do about the prison crisis. Smidgeon acted nervous and flighty, and did not look well. Several owls inquiring about the matter at hand, as well as the minister's health, have gone unanswered at this hour._ Then it goes on about possible ministry corruption and blatant disregard for the safety of the public."

Yates pulled up a chair and collapsed into it. "Do you see? Someone's strong-arming him. Look, I dug up a few photographs from the past six months. Here he is in April, a bit overweight, charming, happy, and the picture of health. Now look at the photograph in the paper from last night."

Harry gasped. "We see him so often, I never noticed!"

Hermione shared her copy with Ron. "He's so thin! There are deep circles around his eyes as though he hasn't been sleeping. And look, he keeps glancing to the side, as though he's waiting for a cue."

"Or wondering if he's doing what he's supposed to."

Hermione dropped the paper. "We should have listened, Yates. You've been right all along. Something's wrong here."

Harry sighed and righted his chair. "Smidgeon's a little over-zealous in his search for Draco. I thought it was odd at first, but now that it's in perspective, it makes a little more sense. I mean, we spent fifteen minutes in Malfoy's lab and knew he was innocent of the charges against him, but well-trained aurors and a dozen officials missed the fact? I think Smidgeon _wanted_ us to find what we did. After all, no one knew we were allowed inside except Steve and Swan. Smidgeon wanted us to know the truth because someone else wants Draco caught."

Hermione nodded. "Why else send secret agents to ask for our help? He didn't dare send an owl. Yet when he _did_ come by, he wasn't alone. He didn't just warn us not to help Sara, he _insisted._ He told us, in a most adamant way, not to give them any reason to arrest us. Harry, Ron, he was trying to tell us something. Smidgeon's always been a fair and able leader. Yates is right. Someone's strong-arming him, and he thinks we're his only hope."

Ron set the paper aside. "If he was able to tell his agents to seek us out, then why not tell them the whole story? Why wait for us to put it together ourselves?"

Harry thought a moment. "Because he's scared. Think about it, Ron. If you feared for your life, would you take the chance? How does he know his agents are one hundred percent trustworthy? Or that his correspondence was secure? Sending them here was a risk, but they were sent to ask us to investigate Malfoy. Nothing more."

"Makes sense to me, mate. Except… why Draco? I don't get it. I mean, no one likes the rotten git, but why would Smidgeon want us to investigate him, and then lead us to information that solidifies his innocence, only to stop by in the hopes of some means of arresting him? I'm lost on that one."

Hermione's eyes lit with realization. "But he wasn't! Remember what he said? _Draco Malfoy will die in prison for his crimes._ It was no idle threat. He was trying to tell us that someone _intends_ for Draco to die in prison, knowing we'd seen the evidence. We know Draco has committed no crime, and so does he. Whoever is strong-arming him wants Draco, and we need to find out why."

"Sara said Draco was being framed. My guess is he has information they want, or he has information they don't want him to share."

"According to Sara, Snape knew for a fact that Sylvia sent Draco a letter, even used Snape's owl to deliver it, yet Draco has no memory of getting it."

"Didn't she also say that Draco identified Sylvia as the ringleader of something and that she'd forced him to retrieve his store of fog vials under the Imperious Curse? While Bellatrix Lestrange and several other known Death Eaters were present? It was this same night that Draco lost his memory, and Sara claimed to have authenticated his memory loss."

Yates had finally come to a place where he wasn't confused. "Sylvia's been buying fog vials from me for the past six months! Draco's been coming in twice as long, and he wasn't looking well most of the time. I witnessed an exchange between them back in April, the very month Smidgeon started acting strange, and she didn't seem pleased with whatever Malfoy told her."

Harry slammed his hand down on his desk. "The lists! We're such idiots! Hermione, Ron, we need to check the lists again!"

Hermione understood at once. "The lists of people who've bought fog vials! Draco's not the only one who was buying them in more than one place! The clerk mentioned Sylvia at the potion supply where Draco bought the vials that day, and now Yates says he sold them to her, too!"

"She's not the only one. There were quite a few others who turned into regulars around the same time. In fact, they were regulars right up until I stopped selling fog vials."

Ron smiled as a plan formed in his mind. "Well Slinky, how'd you like to do something about it?"

"Depends on the level of risk, mate. I've got a family, but I'll do what I can."

"No risk. You need to start selling fog vials again."

Hermione smiled. "What's our angle?"

"We've got a good lot of worthless cameras lying around. Let's see who takes the bait."

Yates grinned. "I get to help with little to no risk, and I stand to make a heavy profit. Where the bloody hell do I sign up?"

Harry stood. "Tell no one, Yates. Not even your wife."

"Done."

"Come back before dark for the devices. When you install them, make sure you're alone and mist your windows, but don't draw any attention or that risk factor may go up."

"Guess I'll keep my visits to a minimum. In fact, I'll probably only stop by if I see one of you outside. That way, I'm not drawing attention by spending time here, but I'm also not making it obvious that I'm avoiding you."

Harry nodded. "And Yates, if you run into problems… _run."_

* * *

The bell rang a second time and Sara drew Voldemort's wand. Draco had taken ill again, but he managed to provide some cover, standing behind the closet door, just in case the visitor wasn't welcome.

Sara put an eye to the peephole and breathed relief. "It's okay, Draco. Stand down."

Draco stowed his wand. "Who is it?"

Sara opened the door. There was a brief exchange and Draco strained to hear what the man on the other side was saying, but to no avail. It sounded like pleasantries to him, nothing important. He watched as Sara signed something and was handed a package before she bid the man a nice day and closed the door again. Draco was dying to know what she had, but waited with impatience as she fastened many locks, reset the Muggle alarm, and replaced the wards.

Sara regarded the package as she returned from the vestibule. "Draco?"

"Can I come out of the closet now?"

Sara burst out laughing.

Draco was bewildered. "Why are you laughing? I imagine it's at my expense?"

"Of course it is. It's a Muggle expression. Never mind, just don't ever say you're coming out of the closet again."

"Who was at the door? What did he want?"

Sara glanced at the box she held and smiled. "I do believe this is for you."

"For me? Who's it from?"

"Severus. I dropped a hint as to where we were and he outsmarted the ministry by using the Muggle mail." Sara grinned and handed him the package. "He Fed Ex'ed it. Overnight air."

Draco smiled at the genius of it and pulled the tape away from the cardboard flaps. "The Muggle mail. Brilliant! How did you tell him? You said Smidgeon was right there."

"I asked if he remembered the day we met and he understood."

Draco gave her a confused glance as he unpacked the box.

"We met here. Uncle Albus sent him to collect me when my parents… um… after…" Sara turned away, overcome by sudden grief.

Draco abandoned the package and hugged her. "I know it's hard for you to be here. I'm sorry to put you through this."

"It's not your fault. It's just that sometimes, when I walk through this house, the ghosts of my memory come back to haunt me and it's so _vivid._ I miss them, Draco. My parents died in this house. I've always known I'd have to come back someday, but being here is more difficult than I'd ever imagined."

Draco kissed her and pressed her head to his shoulder. "I know I can't take it away, but I'm willing to help in any way I can. Don't be afraid to talk about it. I'm here to listen."

Sara dried a stray tear and lifted her head from his shoulder. "I have to leave soon. Let's see what's in the box." She kissed his cheek and smiled. "Perhaps there's enough for you to use one today. I know you said it isn't as bad as last time, but now that Severus knows how to get the remedies to you, you shouldn't have to suffer."

"Look at this! It took him so long to send them, that he's brewed several perfect batches. There's at least a two month supply."

"Excellent!"

Draco rummaged around and pulled out an envelope. "Two hundred American dollars!"

"He's thought of everything! We won't have to exchange it!"

"A miniaturized suitcase."

"My clothes from the tower! I left some things there." Sara enlarged the suitcase and her expression soured as she looked through the items inside. "Most of these are for spring. None of the shoes matches anything. I can't wear any of this." Sara sighed and dropped into an armchair. "Draco, how am I to sing at night if I have nothing to wear? I can't keep washing these same few clothes everyday, not that they're suitable for performing anyway. I wish I'd thought to bring more before Smidgeon locked me out of my house."

"There must be clothes here."

"I left none behind when Severus took me to Hogwarts."

"Sara, I want you to think long and hard on this before you refuse. I know how difficult the idea will seem to you, but I doubt your mother would want her things locked up, hidden away in some dark and horrible museum. She would want you to have them."

Sara spun on him, wounded and angry. "Do you hear yourself? _My mother is DEAD!"_

Draco lowered his voice, his tone gentle and understanding. "Wear her dresses. Even if it's only when you sing."

"I can't! Don't you understand?"

"Then do it for her, not for yourself. It's what she'd want."

"You know I can't disturb that room. This is ridiculous! I don't even want to talk about it!"

"Do you really believe she'd want all her beautiful things to waste away, gathering dust, never again to see the light of day while the daughter she loved so much goes without? Is that how you think she'd feel?"

"No. She would want me to have them, but that's not the point!"

"Don't answer, Sara. Just think about it. Put your feelings aside and do what would make her happy."

"Would you wear your father's clothes, Draco?"

"I have, actually. I carried that snake-headed cane around for years and somehow it helped me. I used to put on his robes and I didn't feel so alone when I wore them. Think about it. Promise me you'll consider it?"

"I will, but that's the only promise I'll make." Sara stood and tried to smile. "Now I'm off to find a job. I'll be home in time for dinner. The chicken's in the marinade."

* * *

Why had Harry lied? Christina considered it while she ate her lunch with little appetite. Maybe _she_ had lied to _him?_ Said she'd come to London for an audition when she'd really come to see Harry? That still didn't explain why she'd been driving home intoxicated. Harry said he'd seen her Saturday, but not Sunday, and they'd parted under excellent circumstances with the snog and all. She'd never been a drinker. Something must've happened. Why had she avoided Harry on Sunday? The answer could be simple. Maybe she was bothered by his recent divorce or he'd had something to do? Had she run into her old boyfriend? That may have caused her to go on a drinking binge, but not if she'd known she'd be driving back to Manchester. Christina sighed. Nothing was adding up.

There had been no cancelled auditions in London for the week of her accident. She'd found a mansion she hardly remembered living in, a raven she didn't recall owning, and an old man who insisted she still lived in that big house on the hill. Ed claimed he saw her often, several times a week, when she'd stop in for pizza at lunchtime. In fact, according to him, she'd just been there a few days before her accident and had asked him over for dinner. When she'd tried to correct him, saying she'd moved to Manchester some time before, he'd laughed and asked whose leg she was trying to pull.

It made sense. Hadn't she felt displaced in the flat? Nothing there was like home. Someone else had arranged her things, someone else had _chosen_ her things, and someone else had decorated. It was as if someone else lived there. If she'd moved that recently, then how could Harry say she'd lived there for a while? He claimed to have visited her flat in the past weeks, when Ed claimed she'd asked him to the mansion only a few days before the accident. Why would she live in two different places? There seemed no reason for her to be in Manchester at all. Her only family was gone. She had no friends' phone numbers lying about. No one had stopped by to see her. Her life, it seemed, was in London. Why would she move away from Harry? Away from the theaters and the work she loved to do? One thing was for certain. She had to get inside that house. But how? With the fedoras following her around, it was impossible. There was a car stationed outside the place at all times now. She'd gone back more than once, only to run away again.

Then there were the men in the fedoras. Why were they watching her? What sort of trouble was she in? Were they from the mafia? That was ridiculous, but Ed had called her ex "Draco" and so he was probably some wealthy Italian. Who knows? He wasn't important anyway. According to Harry, they'd parted ways years before and it didn't sound like she'd been too fond of him, whoever he was. If only she could ask Harry a few more questions, some of this stuff might make a little more sense.

It probably wouldn't be hard to look Harry up in the directory, so Christina withdrew her notebook and a pen.

_Harry,_

_I don't even know if I'll be able to find your address, but I'm in London and I was thinking of you. I'm sorry about our last conversation. I don't think you'd use me to get over your wife, and I didn't mean for it to come out that way. If you can forgive me for making an idiotic statement, you're more than welcome to come by. I'd visit you while I'm here, if only I recalled where you live. You never left me a way to contact you. _

_I have made much progress in trying to find out what I can't remember, but nothing makes any sense. I need to ask you a few questions. I found the house I used to live in, and an elderly friend I used to lunch with threw me a few curves. When did you say I moved? Did I say why I'd moved? Have I ever told you where I came by all this money? I wasn't going to mention it, but there are strange men in odd hats following me and I'm scared. I need answers and I only hope you can help. _

_If, by chance, you do receive this, please respond. I need to know you got it. I'll be home tonight, (Sunday,) and I have to work at my new job tomorrow from ten to two, but I'll be free after that. Please come by. I really need to see you._

_Your friend,_

_Christina_

Christina handed the letter to the raven, who flew off at once with it clasped in its beak. She leapt from her chair, startled. Why had she given a letter to a bird? Of all the ridiculous things to do! Now she'd have to start over, so looking Harry up first would be the best idea. No use writing a worthless letter twice.

* * *

The way his stomach turned, a wave of confused anxiety, filled him with nervous hope and a sense of wrongdoing. Harry held the letter in trembling hands, having already convinced himself that his relationship with Christina was best unpursued. He'd accepted the fact that it was over, that he was doing her more harm than good. Now, here she was, having been reunited with the Malfoy family raven, asking him to drop by. Harry knew he should decline, leave her alone and let her fall into a new life, but part of him longed to see her, even if it was just to make sure she was okay. His eyes returned again and again to her messy words. _I'm scared._

How could he ignore her like this? She was so alone in the world, so vulnerable and uncertain. It was almost a duty of his, to protect her. Draco had done wrong by Christina, and Harry had spent years cleaning up all of Draco's messes. He would have to deal with this one, too.

Harry sighed as he descended the stairs to the office, having heard Mariah's voice come through the door to greet Ron and Hermione. He tried to smile for their benefit, and could only hope his emotional turmoil didn't show on his face. "How was the university?"

"Excellent! I can't wait to go. I'll be starting in January, right after the holidays, and I'm taking all the advanced classes. I get a private dorm with its own lav, free owl boarding, and we even get to leave on weekends, so you know I'll be back to visit all the time."

Mariah's face was aglow with the future and Harry smiled in earnest. He gave her a hug and kissed her cheek. "I'm so happy for you! That's fantastic!"

Hermione hugged her as well. "I'm envious! Just think, instead of all that, I decided to marry Ron. What was I thinking?"

"Hey! I heard that, you know!"

Harry cut in before they could get rolling with it. "Mariah, you never told me what you intend to study?"

"Are you kidding? Honey, you are looking at the next Minister of Magic! Um, make that _Mistress _of Magic. Actually, that sounds like a stripper name. I may have to re-think my course of study."

Harry laughed and pulled out her chair. Her dark hair was up in a bun, high on the back of her head with a bit of fringe to frame her face and he thought she looked even prettier than she had drifting down the street on the arm of Brock Landry.

"I must have missed all sorts of things while I was gone. You'll have to fill me in, but I can't wait another minute to show you what I found in Draco's house. As we were walking past the study, I glanced in and the portrait of Draco's father beckoned to me, then put his finger to his lips. Naturally, I slipped inside, unnoticed and unmissed. He told me his son was being harassed, and that the thing I needed to find was hidden in a secret drawer in his desk. He told me how to open it, and I removed this." She placed a small box on the table. "It's a Portkey to the home of Bellatrix Lestrange."

Hermione turned to Mariah, awestruck. "Are you certain? How do you know he didn't trick you?"

"His son is in the greatest danger, Lucius told me, and had been hiding there for some time. Lucius had been lying to Bellatrix for months, telling her Draco was off on holiday, but she finally grew tired of waiting for him to return. At some point, they realized he'd never left to begin with and knew exactly where to find him. Sylvia set a trap for Draco by asking Snape to invite him to the dinner party where he was attacked. Lucius saw Draco that night, acting like an automaton, planting evidence in his own house. The same evidence the ministry used against him. He repeatedly asked Draco what he was doing, but Draco wouldn't answer except to repeat instructions as he carried out the tasks. He wants Bellatrix and her associates found. He kept saying Draco doesn't have time for this sort of nonsense. I don't know what he means, but I believed every word he said. I can spot an untruth in any witch or wizard, I can assure you of that, and the man wasn't lying."

Harry considered the Portkey and the information that had accompanied it. "Lucius had to have put it in the drawer no less than ten years ago. There's no telling if she's still there."

Ron was skeptical. "It could bloody well be a trap."

Harry nodded. "There's only one way to find out."

Hermione gasped in horror. "We can't send _Neville!_ It's too dangerous!"

Ron and Harry laughed. "No, Hermione. We'll go during the day and check it out. Death Eaters tend to be nocturnal. We'll be safest then."

Ron cleared his throat. "Hermione won't be going to a Death Eater's house! Harry, use your head, mate!"

"I'll go if I want, Ronald!"

"Ron's right, Hermione. You'll stay here and monitor Yates' customers. Mariah will come with Ron and me. We go tomorrow at noon."

Mariah smiled. "I'm in."

Ron grinned. "You _know_ I'm in!"

All started when there was a muted _crack! _near the door.

"Dobby! What are you doing here?"

Dobby smiled, proud of himself. "Harry Potter must come! Dobby has been a very good spy! Dobby has a surprise for Harry Potter and his friends! You must all come at once, sir!"

* * *

"Well? Did you find a job?"

Sara fell onto the couch, where Draco was reading a book. She sighed, dejected.

"I'll take that as a no."

"I went to four different interviews and three of them said they'd call me next week if I was selected for a _second_ interview. There had to be a hundred other people there, auditioning for the same stupid job."

"I wouldn't worry about it. You're better than all of them."

Sara let her head fall into her hands. "We need money coming in _now,_ Draco. We can't wait weeks for an income. I'm never going to get a job singing. I look like hell. My clothes are a wreck. I have two-color hair, and I was so _nervous._ I know I blew the first one. They cut me short and sent me on my way."

"So what. There are more than four places to work in a city this size. You have two options. You can try again tomorrow, or you can give up. My vote is for the latter. We still have money and Snape will send more."

"You'd prefer that we rely on others instead of ourselves? Really, how selfish can you be? Did it ever occur to you that Severus risks arrest to help you when you don't feel the need to help yourself? Harry says they've made no progress in the investigation, so who knows how long we'll have to stay here? It could be weeks, months, even years! Do we really have to keep going 'round about this? We can't count on Severus! He's under heavy ministry guard!"

"Use magic then. Use a suggestion charm on the interviewers. That'll get you the job."

"There will be more auditions. Besides, I did manage to get a job today. It isn't singing, but it'll put food on the table until I find something else."

"Doing what? I thought we talked about this? Sara, we agreed on singing and _nothing else!"_

"It's nothing! Don't get so excited, Draco, it won't kill me to clean some hotel rooms. It's a paycheck! We aren't in a position to be overly selective!"

Draco's voice filled the room as his face reddened with the absurdity of it. "You'll be a _servant_ over _MY_ _DEAD BODY!_ You won't be going!" Draco leapt to his feet and shouted. "If you think I'll let you scrub someone else's floors, you're MAD!"

"I'll do whatever I see fit, thanks! It isn't your decision! I mean, who do you think you are? My father? You have no claim over me, no right to exert authority over my actions! You aren't even my husband!"

"How could I be your husband? You're _low_ enough to clean some transient's toilet, but you think you're too good for the likes of me!"

Sara grew angry and matched his tone. "What girl would want a husband who thinks he has a right to _order me around!"_

"No, you'd prefer a husband who _couldn't care less_ about you, who'll make you feel worthless, lower than the pathetic dirt _he_ is!"

Sara shot to her feet, irate, and screamed at him. _"How dare you!_ Harry put food on our table and risked prison to do it and you have the nerve to insult him?! You _disgust_ me!"

'He isn't helping me; he's helping _you_ out of pity! And to ease his guilt over _dumping_ you!"

"You did NOT just say that!"

"What's the matter? Does the truth hurt? You were too good for _me,_ so you married some over-lauded _loser_ who spends all his time wallowing in self-pity and, in the end, he threw you away like yesterday's trash! Then again, perhaps that's what you've aspired to be, now that you've lowered yourself to the disgrace of servitude. At this point, I'd have to say that it's _me_ who's too good for _you!"_

Sara felt such rage and indignation that she couldn't stop her arm as it extended. Draco was thrown off his feet as the lightning hit and he crashed hard into the couch.

Sara trembled as she fought for control of her emotions. Her voice was low and unsteady as she seethed with outrage. "I could go home to a mansion and a _fortune._ I was willing to scrub toilets for _YOU,_ you ignorant, selfish _bastard_ and if you say so much as _one more word_, I'm taking our only Portkey and leaving. I _hate_ you for the things you've said. You'd best hope I don't hate you when I return." She made it to the door before he spoke.

"Sara, I didn't mean-"

"_**SHUT-UP!!"**_

The door slammed and she was gone.

* * *

"How did you find her? Dobby, how on earth did you catch a witch?" Hermione knelt on the cobbles, gazing through the bars in wonder. "How did one house-elf win against a top Death Eater?"

"Dobby did not duel with the witch. She cursed the headmaster! Dobby watched her do it! Dobby followed her into the corridor and caught her running away!"

Harry gave the elf a smile of immense approval. "I think I owe you about a million socks for this."

Ron nodded in agreement. "I'll give you mine right off my feet if you want! _Brilliant,_ Dobby!"

Mariah bent and kissed the elf's cheek. "If there was a house-elf hall of fame, they'd erect your statue right at the entrance. How can we ever repay you?"

Hermione lowered the flap that covered the cage Dobby had apparated onto the street outside Harry's office. "Come up to Harry's flat, Dobby. I'll make you a big bowl of strawberries and cream."

Dobby's eyes widened. He took Hermione's hand and walked with her through the door with Mariah in tow.

Ron turned to Harry. "How do we get this great big thing into the office? The door's only so wide. I don't think we should shrink it with a person inside, even if she _is_ a Death Eater."

"Don't you remember when Sara bought the piano?"

"Oh yeah. I've got this one. You do the levitating." Ron aimed his wand and the doorway widened until it took up most of the façade.

Within moments, Harry had the cage inside. "Let's put her in the basement. We're using the X closet and there's no way I'm keeping a Death Eater in my flat."

"Shouldn't we inform someone? I mean, won't we get in trouble for keeping a prisoner in the basement?"

"If we tell someone, there's a good chance she'll be released before the night is out."

"To the basement she goes, then." Ron cast the spell a second time and then helped Harry levitate the heavy cage down the rickety old stairs. "We'll have to make the cage bigger. After all, I imagine we'll be keeping her awhile. It should be livable. You know, a place to sleep and all that. I mean, who wants to take her to the lav?"

"Good call, Ron. We'll have the girls fashion something. In the meantime, I think we'll leave her in the petrified state. We can interrogate her later. There's something I need to do."

* * *

Sara shivered as a gust of wind penetrated the heavy jumper she wore. It was of good quality and warm, but not warm enough for the approaching New York winter. Sara thought she'd need a coat soon as she huddled in a doorway near the corner of 11th Avenue and 43rd Street. Watching taxis rush by on either side of the thoroughfare, Sara wondered what she was doing here, meeting a strange man in Hell's Kitchen. To say she was calm and assured of her safety would be a lie.

"I didn't think you'd be here. Good evening, Sara." He rubbed his arms against the cold. "Seems Hell's frozen over. Close enough, anyway."

"Evening, Martin. Nice neighborhood. Thanks so much for inviting me, I'm so thrilled."

"You've been crying. Not on my account, I hope? I wanted to be sure you'd show up, but I never meant to cause you distress."

"If someone hurt my feelings, it's hardly your fault. Now tell me why I'm here. I'm cold and miserable and I want to go home."

"Walk with me. I'll explain on the way."

"Where are we going?"

"Couple of blocks over. As for what we're doing, I hope you're half as badass as you seemed in the market. I have to warn you, this may be dangerous. Actually, there's no question. It _will_ be dangerous."

"I can protect myself better than most but, as you saw, I'm just as vulnerable as anyone else. As for the danger, I have to admit, unless you start explaining yourself, I'm leaving."

Martin turned to her with angry eyes. "I lost my family's store to save your life. I could never go back there and expect to live through the day. I'm a traitor in their eyes, so that means you owe me. You know how it goes. Eye for an eye and all that."

"All I owe you is my gratitude. Martin, I'll help you if I can, but your saving me does not enter me into a binding contract of servitude. It makes you an exemplary citizen, a good Samaritan, _not_ my keeper, forever holding a single good deed over my head. Tell me what this is about or you're on your own."

"We're going to the home of a man and his wife who stole something from my father when I was twelve years old. A large group, eight in all, broke into our home, having countered the many wards on the door. My mom and dad were in the living room. I hid behind the curtains and I saw the whole thing."

"What did they take?"

"I'm not sure what they were, but my dad made a big deal out of collecting them. I remember Mom telling him we should sell them because we needed the money, but he refused."

"What did they look like? How many did he have?"

"They were boxes. Cubes, actually, there were four of them, and they turned the light to prisms. They didn't seem to open or serve any sort of purpose that I could see, but they really were something to look at. I could sit and stare at them for hours, had I been allowed to. Dad brought them out often enough so that we could marvel over them, but he never kept them out for long."

"So these people stole the cubes? The people in the house I assume we're headed for?"

"They did, and we're going to steal one of the cubes back. As I said, there were eight people who came that night, four couples. Half of them are dead. I've recovered one cube. The other is lost, as far as I know. As for the two couples still alive, I've never been strong enough, in nerve or numbers, to attempt it."

"What is my part in this?"

"I could never handle these two on my own. You're my backup. My secret weapon."

"Why are these boxes so important to you? What do they do?"

"I don't know, but my parents died for them. Right before my eyes as I hid behind the curtains. That's why they're so important to me."

"I'm sorry."

Martin stopped on the sidewalk and looked up at a ramshackle, brick apartment building. "We're here."

Sara took a deep breath beside him.

"Are you leaving or not?"

"I've always been taught to right an injustice, Martin. To stand for those too weak to defend themselves. If your only weakness is in numbers, then it's my duty to stand behind you. It's a terrible story you told, and I'm angry with these people for what they've done to you and your parents. I'm going with you."

Martin smiled. "Here's the plan."

* * *

Christina fell onto the ugly bed, ignoring all the new clothes she was probably wrinkling. The train could be so exhausting, but it had more to do with her state of mind than traveling. With a ton of information logged into a second notebook reserved for hard facts, her head was reeling with confusion. Each answer she received led to more questions, all more difficult than the last.

Harry had not been listed in the London directory. She had also lost her raven, which troubled her a great deal. She'd thought of it all the way from London to Manchester, of how she'd handed the letter to the bird and watched it fly away. It still made no sense, yet something in the act had been second nature. Something about it felt _right_ in a sense she could not comprehend. There was only one thing of which Christina was certain. Her body ached all over. Her nerves were shot from the fedoras, two of whom had sat at the back of the train to Manchester and followed her right to her door on Ferguson Drive. Only two things could relive such stress. A hot bath and a cup of tea. Together, they could work wonders.

Christina had done a fair amount of shopping in London and unpacked the many fragrant candles she'd purchased in a little shop near Knightsbridge. The place had been a rapture of mingling scents. Smelling each of the options and selecting her favorites had been such a wonderful retreat from the cold afternoons of tracking down information and evading her pursuers that she'd lingered there for an hour at least. As a result, Christina had returned home with two heavy bags of candles.

Steam rose from the tub as the water ran from the tap and Christina lit the flame beneath the kettle before unwrapping all the jars of wax, setting them around the flat, and lighting them. She carried four into the bathroom, fastened her hair into a clip to keep it dry, and went out to fix her tea.

There had been rose oil beside the bath foam and Christina sank into the mingling aromas. Roses, orange spice, butter cream, fresh linen, and something called moonlight jasmine. The hot water sank soothing fingers into her tense muscles.

Sinking down until it lapped at the stray wisps that fell from the clip in her hair, her eyes fell closed, savoring the warmth and comfort until sleep was inevitable.

Christina shot awake, startled. The water had cooled, but only a little. She hadn't been asleep long, so what was wrong? Had she been dreaming? Christina checked the watch she'd left atop her clothes. It was only a few minutes after nine. Nervous, she got out of the tub and found her robe.

Christina breathed relief as a knock came at the door, knowing it was what had startled her awake. There was no one sneaking around the flat, waiting to jump out and kill her. Smiling at this thought, and with her heart full of hope, Christina tied the heavy terry robe and hurried to answer the door.

He wore an apologetic smile and held an enormous bouquet of irises, wrapped in paper and tied with a bow. The raven was perched on his shoulder.

"Harry! How… I mean, the bird! _How _did you get it?"

"Birds are smarter than you think."

"Like a homing pigeon?"

"I'd say it's exactly like that. Here, these are for you." Not wanting to get into a discussion about mail-carrying birds, Harry handed her the flowers. "I'm sorry about the way I left. I was upset."

Christina tossed the flowers onto the couch and threw her arms around his neck, flooded with relief at the sight of him. "I've missed you, Harry. I can't even begin to tell you how much."

Harry overcame his surprise at the sudden gesture and pulled her close, letting his head rest against her hair. "I came as soon as I could."

Christina pulled away and kissed his cheek. "Come in. Let me make you some tea."

"Did I disturb you?"

She glanced at her robe, touched the damp ringlets that had fallen from the clip, and smiled. "You probably saved me from drowning. I fell asleep in the bath."

"Get dressed then. I'll fix the tea."

* * *

When she re-emerged, Harry was waiting on the couch and the irises were in two vases on either end table. Two steaming mugs sat before him, and Christina thought he looked like an angel in the candlelight. "I can switch on the overhead. It's rather dark."

"I like it just the way it is. I've never been a fan of false light." Harry looked at her with a smile in his eyes. "Stop worrying about the little things. Sit down, would you? Tell me about your trip to London."

By the time she was done talking, Harry was concerned. Not only had she found the house on the hill, but some old man named Ed had screwed up the timeline and had also mentioned Draco by name. That was a problem, especially since ministry agents were following her every step. It was difficult to be unable to tell her who the men in the fedora hats were, and that they were relatively safe, but how could he? And how could he make light of her concerns without sounding as if he was not taking her seriously?

"Have they approached you? Tried to harm you in any way?"

"Not at all! They just follow me around!"

"I wouldn't worry too much, then. I mean, if they meant to hurt you, they would have done it by now. Perhaps someone has sent them to keep you safe?"

"I never thought of it that way. It's possible, but I don't like them. I tried to talk to one this morning, but they won't allow me to approach."

"What do they do?"

"They just sort of _vanish_. A car passes or someone walks by and he'll be gone just that quick. It's as if Houdini's following me!"

Harry laughed. "I know it's improper of them and uncomfortable for you, but they seem rather harmless if you ask me. Be careful of where you go and what you do, but other than that, I'd say pay them no mind. They haven't done any harm and they won't approach you, so keep an eye out is all."

"So what about that huge mansion I lived in?"

"I don't know. Maybe you kept this flat as well as the house? Lots of people keep a flat if they visit another place often enough and can afford it. You said you were renting a house before you moved here. You never said where it was or anything, but I got the impression that you were glad to be out of the place. I really don't know, Chris. You only ever told me bits and pieces." Harry lifted his teacup with a shaky hand. He had come prepared, but not _this_ prepared. Again, he wondered if being here was the best idea. Lying was entirely too complicated, and he couldn't stand doing it. "Would you like another cup?"

"No, but thanks." Christina stood and paced the shadowy room, finally wandering to the window to look down at the street below. There, in his usual niche across the way, was the man she'd seen so many times. The one who'd been outside the boutique where she'd bought her first dark purple dress. He'd stood in a doorway and tipped his old-fashioned hat when she'd stared at him with some sort of dim recognition. He tipped his hat, which was not even close to resembling a fedora, to her now and Christina gasped. She yanked the curtains closed and turned frightened eyes back to Harry.

"What is it?"

"Someone's watching me. I've seen him many times. He keeps his distance, but he isn't one of the others. I can't imagine what he wants." Christina's breath hitched as she fought for control. "Harry, I'm so scared. I don't know what's going on, but I can't live like this anymore!" Tears coursed down her cheeks and she hid her face in her hands.

Harry held her for a long moment as she cried on his shoulder. "Sit down, Chris. Let me see this man you speak of."

She moved to the couch and Harry pulled the curtain aside, but only enough to look out without being recognized. With his back to Christina, Harry smiled. He let it fade before he closed the curtain again and turned to face her. "I'll take care of this. Stay here."

"Harry no! He might hurt you!"

"Don't worry. I'll be back in a minute."

She moved the curtain in the same way Harry had and peered through it as he went out the door of the flat.

Harry could feel her terrified gaze on him as he crossed the street in the dark. The man in the doorway straightened and smiled. Harry was too flustered to smile. "You're scaring her half to death, you know. The ministry's breathing down her neck, and here you are, right outside her flat!"

"I'm here to make sure she comes to no harm."

"I know that, but _she_ doesn't! Can't you be a little more inconspicuous? The poor girl just burst into tears when she saw you! She's a walking train wreck!"

"The ministry has always been inept. They wear those ridiculous hats as though they think they'll blend with the populace. Do they not realize they're highly visible?"

Harry sighed. "Obviously not. They're supposed to monitor her for a while, not turn her into a paranoid lunatic. I'd speak to Smidgeon about it, but I'm not exactly supposed to be here."

"Why _are_ you here?"

"I had to make sure she was okay. And because I want to be."

"All is lost then?"

"Yes. All is lost. Let's not have that conversation. Not here. Not now."

"Soon."

"If you insist. For now, Christina is safe. In the future, conceal yourself a little better before she has a nervous breakdown."

"Do you not want me to protect her?"

"I'm glad you're here. Thrilled actually. I'll sleep better at night, knowing you're watching over her. Just try not to let her see you. She's asking enough questions as it is."

"I will speak to you soon, Harry."

"Keep her safe."

"You can rely on it."

Harry crossed the street and when he looked back before passing through the building's entrance, the doorway was vacant.

"You could have been killed! What were you _thinking?"_

"I'm not that easy to kill."

"He's gone."

"Yes. He means you no harm, Chris. He said as much and I know honesty when I see it. He didn't mean to scare you. He won't linger across the street anymore, but you may see him around. Pay him no mind."

Christina breathed relief. "Why is he watching me?"

"He didn't say. Forget about it for now. Tell me, does this Muggle telly work? I haven't watched a movie in ages."

"Sure, it works. Tell you what. You find us something to watch, and I'll fix us another cup. I think I want one after all."

* * *

Christina watched as Harry pushed a button on the remote and the telly flashed life onto the screen. With his attention diverted, she slipped into her bedroom and pulled her memory notebook from the bag she'd taken on the train. Flipping through pages, she found Harry's unconscious slip in one of her earliest entries, made even before leaving the hospital. _The Muggle telly._

* * *

Sara held her breath as she rang the bell a second time. Just as she thought she'd been spared and would be allowed to go home, a clamor sounded from behind the door. It was an angry giant by the sounds. One who didn't seem happy to have been disturbed.

"WHO IS IT!"

Sara faltered, and then cleared her throat. "Um… my name is Mary. I just moved in down the hall and I'd like a word with you." Sara could feel him leering at her through the peephole and tried to smile. "It'll only take a moment."

The door opened a crack, stopped short by two chain locks. A tuft of greasy hair, followed by one eye, appeared in the opening. "Yeah?"

Sara looked at the distrustful eye and gave it a frown of personal offense. Her heart raced in her chest and she was sure its loud thumping would betray her exterior calm. Her divining sense was telling her this was a bad idea. Sara ignored it and tried again to smile. "I wasn't planning to beat you up, sir."

A woman's shrill, commanding voice came from the depths of the room. "Is that any way to treat a neighbor, you ignoramus?! Roger, _open the damn door!"_

The miserable giant leaned back and laughed through the thin opening. Sara could see the living room, nice once upon a time, but now littered with household clutter and _lived-in,_ as if the woman of the house had given up cleaning at some point. The door shut and the chains were released. Sara's heart beat faster and she glanced at Martin, who pressed flat against the wall at her side, hidden from Roger and Arlene Curtis' view.

Roger was still smiling when the door opened again, and Sara repressed a grin when she saw his white, sleeveless undershirt, otherwise known as a wife-beater, and sweatpants. It was exactly what she'd assumed he was wearing the moment that one eye had peered through the opening.

"Sorry about that. Can't be too careful these days, but you don't look like the sort to steal my TV."

Sara glanced at the telly inside the room. It still had manual dials and had to be twenty years old. "No, sir, but I _am_ here to reclaim something." She stepped over the threshold, negating any wards that might have been there. She reached back and took Martin's hand, allowing him to enter unharmed.

"I ain't got nothing of yours."

Sara gave Martin's hand a squeeze and he swung into the doorway, blasting Roger off his feet as Sara shot forward to disarm Arlene Curtis. The woman's knitting dropped into her lap as she fell neatly over onto the sofa cushions.

Sara looked to Martin and smiled. "That was entirely too easy."

"Well done, Sara. Let's find that cube."

Rooting through the apartment took some time, and Sara was uneasy. Something was wrong, at least that's what her senses told her, and she fought the need to bolt out the door. Instead, she focused all her attention on rifling through the Curtis' kitchen cupboards.

"Sara!"

Martin had been emptying a bedroom closet. Most of the contents were now on the floor, off to the side. He held a shoebox in his hands and, inside, there sat the coveted item. It was far more beautiful than he'd described_. Luminous._ Brilliant with light that drew the eyes in a way Sara had only seen once before. "I know what that is. It's a crux cube! They hold something one wants to keep hidden, and there's usually a complicated spell to open it."

"I've found it at last! My father would be proud, Sara."

"Put it away then. Let's get out of here. I've got the _worst_ feeling."

Martin pulled a soft drawstring bag from the pocket of his jacket and slipped the cube inside. He placed a hand at the small of her back to lead her out, only Sara was caught off guard by a nasty, brutal curse. It lifted her off her feet and threw her hard into the wall, breaking her arm and what felt like her shoulder as well. With a painful scream, she fell to the floor. Her head was not fully healed from Maggie's blow with a club, and the wound split a second time, sending a river of blood flowing down her neck. Sara fought to stay conscious.

Martin was crumpled on the floor and a female form loomed over him, her face blacked out by the backlight from the bathroom across the hall. She must have been hiding in there, behind the shower curtain perhaps, waiting for the right moment to strike.

The girl's voice seethed. "I saw what you did to my grandparents. You'll pay for that with your lives."

Sara touched her mind, silent and clandestine, hoping to learn if Roger and Arlene's granddaughter was bluffing. She _wasn't,_ and Sara found that this was a Dark mind. A very Dark mind indeed. Angel was her name, and what a contradiction _that _was.

Angel came forward after giving Martin a swift kick and leaned over Sara, sitting mostly upright against the cheap pine paneling. "Hey pretty girl, I got somethin' for ya."

Sara felt the first signs of panic and her good hand reached for the Fortificus Charm. Angel slapped the hand away.

A searing pain ripped across her cheek and Sara cried out, fighting against the curse that kept her on the floor, weak and defenseless.

"There. That should fix that pretty face of yours." Angel stood and chuckled as blood ran down Sara's face. "Ain't so pretty no more, are ya?"

Angel turned back to Martin, who was trying hard to get to his feet. Angel pointed her wand and blasted him again with the same, agonizing curse, knocking him down and across the floor.

Sara raised her hand. A tired bolt of lightning issued forth, striking Angel, knocking her back against the wall. With all the will she could muster, Sara drew Voldemort's wand and took aim.

Angel collapsed, striking the wall as Sara herself had not long before. Sara turned the wand on herself, dissolving the curse that clung to her still. She was injured, badly it seemed, at least that's how it felt, and time was pressing. Angel was strong, as evil as they come, and Sara knew it wouldn't be long before she was back on her feet. She turned the wand on Martin. _"Enervate!"_

Martin groaned and tried to roll onto his back.

"Get up! We have to get out of here!"

"Sara, what happened?"

"Get up! There's no time!"

"It hurts. I don't know what she did to me, but it hurts too much to describe."

"It feels like knives stabbing every inch of your body. She got me with the same curse. I can't help you up. My arm is broken. There's something wrong with my shoulder and my neck. You'll have to get to your feet. Martin, we don't have much time." Sara pulled a chair across the room with what little remained of her strength. "Here, use the chair. Pull yourself up."

Martin groaned again as his hands found a firm grip and he was finally sitting. "Did you hear that? Someone's coming."

Sara turned to find Roger Curtis standing in the bedroom doorway with his wife off his shoulder. Both were glaring and his wand was trained on Sara.

"_Expelliarmus!_ Nice try, _Mary._ Not very neighborly of you at all!"

"You stole something from him."

"You cursed my wife. Curse my wife and _die."_ Arlene revived her granddaughter as Roger extended his arm. _"Avada-"_

Sara thrust her hand forward and shouted a phrase in Latin. It was a phrase only Lucius Malfoy had ever heard spoken in malice, and Sara thought of him as three vicious cyclones enveloped her enemies. Wands were expelled from the fury of the circling winds and Sara did her best to help Martin to his feet. Sara put her arm around his waist and helped him past the cyclones before throwing all three people out of the winds and into the walls hard enough to knock them senseless. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Luck was on their side. It was mostly downhill, at least to Broadway, and Sara felt ready to collapse. It was a long, difficult, and agonizing trek for both of them. Martin was nearer home, but she had many, many blocks to travel on foot. Three avenues to cross for 5th, a left turn, and then no fewer than twenty blocks north to 63rd Street.

"Come back to my place. We'll get the bleeding stopped and you can rest awhile. You'll never make it in your shape."

"Thanks, but I've never wanted home so bad in my life."

"Send an owl as soon as you arrive. I need to know you made it back."

"I don't have an owl, but I'll make do. Are you going to be all right, Martin?"

"I don't feel like I'll be all right at the moment, but I'm sure it'll wear off after a while. Don't worry about me. Sara… _your arm._ You can't walk home."

"It's fine."

"No it's not and you're white as a ghost. You're in shock and the other side of the park is too far. We're _nowhere near_ the park! _Come with me."_

Sara tried to smile through her exquisite agony and lied so they could be on their way. "I'll take a cab if it gets too bad." The truth was, the pain was so far beyond "too bad" that she had to clench her teeth to keep from screaming.

"Good. I feel better about that. Don't forget to let me know you got home safe." Martin stepped forward and kissed her forehead. "Thank you. Really. I'm sorry you got hurt."

"We got the cube and we're alive. That's all that matters. Good night, Martin. Get some sleep."

"Good night, Sara."

Sara watched him limp down Broadway, and then stumbled her way down the walk toward 5th in the chill of the night. Freezing as the wind cut through her jumper, she struggled to stay alert. It wasn't just the compound fracture in her arm. Sara was certain that her shoulder was broken. There was also the possibility of a spinal injury and she had a concussion at best. Blood still seeped from her head and from the long cut on her cheek. She could feel her strength bleeding from her as well. She was lightheaded, dizzy, exhausted, in tremendous pain, and wavered above consciousness. Sara closed her eyes as she walked and pushed her will into the darkness. The wind lifted her, raised her into the air, carried her across the city and over Central Park.

* * *

"Sara? It's about time! The chicken's out of the marinade and into the _grave."_ Draco was irritated, having cooked their dinner alone, only to watch it dry up and shrivel as he'd tried to keep it warm in the oven. "You know, for someone who's so worried about money, you don't seem to mind letting an entire meal go to waste!"

Standing in confusion by the back door, Draco realized she'd come in the front and headed that way. "Now you're using the _front_ door? I guess you don't care if the whole neighborhood knows we're here. Sara? That's you, isn't it?"

There was no answer.

Draco drew his wand and fell to the shadows, creeping along the wall in the dark, moving with stealth and in silence.

A weak, quiet voice issued from the foyer. _"Draco."_

Draco breathed relief and stowed his wand. "Sara," he called. "You scared the hell out of me!"

She stood, wavering on her feet by the front door. Her watery eyes were closed, though Draco didn't notice in the dim of the room.

"I'm sorry about earlier. I was just upset over the job. I didn't mean any of the things I said. I imagine you probably still hate me, but if you want to scrub toilets, I won't stop you. I only got so upset because I can't stand the thought of it. Will you forgive me?"

"_Draco."_

He couldn't stand the idea of her being angry with him either, so he crossed the room in a rush of emotion and threw his arms around her. There was a low grinding sound and Sara screamed. It was a loud, ear-shattering, blood-curdling screech that startled and frightened him so badly that he stumbled back a step and Sara collapsed to the floor without grace. Blood spilled out around her head, a gruesome halo, and it was now that he saw the gash across her cheek, the arm that was bent in the wrong place, and which hung at a strange angle.

"_SARA!!"_

He switched on the light, even though she'd forbid him to use it, and trembled as he looked at her crumpled, broken form. He fell to his knees beside her. "Who did this to you!?"

She didn't answer.

Draco sat in silent shock for a moment, holding his breath as he watched for hers. To his relief, her chest rose and fell, though her breaths were shallow and too few. He'd squeezed her arm, he realized, squeezed it _hard_ when he'd hugged her and caused her such pain as to render her unconscious. "Sara, wake up! _I didn't know!"_

Draco erupted with tears. It was an unmanly thing for him to do, what he didn't know what _else_ to do. There was no Snape to call. No St. Mungo's to rush off to. There wasn't even Hermione Granger to heal her injuries with a stroke of brilliance and a wealth of knowledge. He was alone here. Sara was hurt. She could be dying right here on the floor of the foyer, and it was up to him to save her. His terror was unfathomable.

"I need help! I've never healed anyone before. Not even a cut!" Sara was in no shape to lend a hand, but talking to her seemed to help the situation, even if the relief it brought was only in his mind. Hearing his words spoken aloud made the room less empty. Tricked him into thinking she was listening. "I think I recall the spell you used when I cut my finger yesterday, but what if I get it wrong? What if I make it worse?" Draco lowered his head as he wiped the blood from her face and sobbed his fear to the room. "I'll do _anything_. I'll never argue with you again, just please be okay. Sara, you _have to_ wake up and tell me what to do!"

As Draco cried over her demise and his own helplessness, Sara's voice drifted into his mind. It was difficult for her to speak, even mentally, and she struggled with her few words. _Cellar… books… go…_

"I'll go as fast as I can. I promise I'll be right back."

Draco hurried down a hidden stair to the basement. He'd been down here only once before, when Sara had given him the grand tour, but the potions lab wasn't hard to find. The bookcase, however, was more of a challenge. It was loaded with hundreds of volumes and took up an entire wall. Hoping her parents were as organized as his had been, he went straight to the "M" section and there it was. An entire shelf of medical books. Draco grabbed several at a glance, hoping he'd chosen the right ones, and raced back up the stairs to her side. He sniffled and wiped his eyes. "Please stop bleeding, Sara. Please don't die before I find the spells. I don't even know what's wrong with you, other than what I can see with my own eyes! Don't die. Just please don't die."

Draco was shaking with fear as he opened a cover, ran his finger down the table of contents, then flipped through pages.

He did the spell to heal her arm, but was so afraid he'd screw it up that it didn't do much of anything. Draco knew that reluctance and insecurity in magic was a recipe for failure, so he steeled himself for what he had to do. "Sara, I'll need to align the bones in your arm. If you can hear me, this is going to hurt, and it's going to hurt _a lot._ I'm sorry, I don't want to hurt you, but it must be done." He cringed as he wrapped a hand around her arm just below the shoulder. The other he placed just above the elbow. A jagged piece of bone jutted through the sleeve and he tried to ignore the sight of it. Sara gave a faint groan as he brought the bone back into a straight line. The flesh there was swollen to many times its normal size, which made the manipulation difficult, but he thought he had it just about right. Draco aimed his wand and spoke the words a second time, wanting so badly for it to work that it couldn't possibly have failed, even if he misspoke. Draco held his breath as the bone mended, then exhaled his relief. He hadn't made it worse after all.

He tried the same spell on her shoulder, but nothing happened. It wasn't broken then, just dislocated. Another chapter yielded the spell for her shoulder and he performed it with haste. All the injuries on her left side would need to be healed before she could be turned and the blood seeping from the back of her head worried him. It had slowed, but not stopped, and Draco had a feeling it was more than just a simple cut. He remembered the blood in her hair from yesterday, so this was a re-injury, which could be even more serious. A memory from years before drifted across his mind, The Tickler, cracking him in the head and later waking up to hear Voldemort say his skull had been fractured and that he could have died. That meant Sara could be dying right here on the floor and it was all he could do not to give in to panic.

_Torn Rotator Cuff._ Draco didn't know if Sara had sustained this injury, but it seemed likely. The incantation was right there in front of him, on the page after "Dislocated Shoulder," so he performed this as well before changing to the text marked _Head Injuries and How to Heal Them._

Draco performed many spells on the back of Sara's head. One for a cracked skull, contusions, hydro encephalitis, concussion, blood clots, and finally, he healed the gash that had spilled so much of her blood. Feeling reassured, he researched a third book and drew his wand across the cut that ran the length of her cheek. The edges came together, forming a long scratch, and Draco was uncertain if it would leave a scar. If it did, he would find the person who'd marred Sara's face. When he did, he would unleash a wrath of the most brutal vengeance the world had ever seen. Actually, he planned to do that anyway. No one hurt his Sara and lived. _No one._

"Draco?"

"_Sara!_ Merlins, Sara, I thought I'd never hear your voice again." Draco took her hand and kissed it where she lay on the floor. "How do you feel? Did I get everything? Do you feel pain anywhere?"

"I don't know. I feel like I got hit by the Hogwarts Express."

"What happened to you! I thought you were going to die right here in front of me."

"It was nothing. Just a scuffle."

"A scuffle? Please! Don't give me that! I demand to know who did this to you! Who _dared_ attack you in such a manner?"

"I don't know who it was."

"Why are you lying? Sara! Tell me what this is all about." Draco turned away and coughed until he thought his head might explode, then sniffled and felt his head. The fever was creeping back already.

Sara sat up and watched him, annoyed by his demanding when he'd told her nothing about his own problems. "It's _nothing_, I said! It's just an _allergy complication."_

"A minute ago I thought you were going to die and I was never so scared. Now? I feel like strangling you. Stop lying to me and answer the question!"

Sara stood, seeing the tear stains on his face, and remembering all the nights she'd cried over him, and received no reassurance. She faced him, angry and unmoved. "I'll stop lying when you do. Tell me, Draco, what are you allergic to? _AIR?"_

"It's none of your business!"

"Oh so that's how it is? The old double standard? You can almost die in my arms and hand me a fistful of bullshit, but I break my arm and you demand an answer? Well, let me explain some things to you. You may be my friend, but I'm here to keep you out of prison and that's all. What I do is my business, not yours, and if I come home a little banged up, I owe you no explanation."

"How do you figure? You scared me half to death!"

"And you've never scared me?"

"That's different!"

"How do you figure? How is your illness different from my injury? Do you think I'm stupid? There's more to it than _pollen!_ People don't almost die from _pollen!"_

"I'm allergic to _rejection!"_

"I got run over by a horse and carriage."

"Two days in a row?"

"I wanted red hair."

"And I'm just looking for sympathy. I faked the coma."

"Hardly. I put poison in your food."

"You probably _did_ because you _hate me!"_

"I'm not the one keeping all the secrets! Do you think I would keep this from you if we were as open with each other as we once were? You've been lying to me since the day I stepped into your father's office and I told you everything."

"You _never_ tell me everything! Your life's objective is to make me as miserable as humanly possible! Sometimes I wish I'd even never even _met_ you! Now you come home and collapse, but I'm wrong to ask why?"

"Nikolae tried to warn me, you know. He said that you'd lie to me, but I didn't believe him. Now _both_ of the men in my life have made a fool of me. It's no surprise. You're so obsessed with being whatever Harry is, it's a wonder you haven't left before now. Go on then, walk out the door like he did."

"I'm _not_ Harry."

"No, you're right, He's BETTER than you, in every way!"

"DO NOT go there. If you start comparing me to Harry, I'll compare you to Christina!"

"How dare you! Don't ever mention _that name_ to me again!"

"Now _THERE'S_ your double standard!"

"You know, Harry offered to tell me your little secret, but I declined. I thought you'd tell me yourself, but you're nothing but a liar. You _deserve_ a double standard! _ALLERGY COMPLICATION MY ASS!"_

Draco grabbed a vase that was near to hand and threw it across the room to shatter with a loud crash on the wall. "WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY?! THAT I'M _DYING?_ THAT VOLDEMORT CURSED ME INTO AN EARLY GRAVE? THAT I'LL DIE ALONE, WITH NO HEIR AND NO ONE WHO LOVES ME? Is _THAT_ what you want to hear? That I have an incurable disease called Mortis Myalgia and there's nothing anyone ca do? That the remedies will eventually stop working and that I've been sick for _years?_ Is THAT what you want to know, _SARA!?"_

Sara, unsure if he was telling the truth, burst into tears at the very thought. "That's not even funny!"

"I've never found any humor in it."

"_YOU'RE LYING!"_

"I wish I was. You wanted the truth, now you have it. Can you blame me for not telling you? I only ever wanted to protect you as long as I could. There will come a time when I can't hide it anymore. That's when I planned to break it to you, not now. Now I want to _live._ I want to spend time with the person I love the most without _pity_. Without _regret."_

"You're not lying, are you?"

Draco watched as tears slid down her face and dripped from her chin. Devastation and a need for disbelieve edged her countenance. His tone dropped to an apologetic whisper. "I wish I was."

Sara looked on him for a long moment, and then rushed forward to throw her arms around him, sobbing hard into his shoulder. Draco held her fast, feeling emotion well in him at his long awaited confession. He'd never meant to tell her this way, blurted out in the midst of an argument, but now that it was out, he didn't feel so alienated. So _alone_. "Don't run away from me, Sara. I need you now more than ever."

"I _won't!_ I won't leave you. An _army_ of Aurors couldn't tear me from your side. Draco, you're my best friend. I love you the way no one else does and I _never_ want to lose you! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you're the one I'd hurt the most."

"I'll find a cure. Whatever it is, there's a way around everything in magic. I'll save you if it's the last thing I ever do."

"There's a way around_ almost_ everything." Draco pulled away so he could look at her, eye to eye. "I'm going to die, Sara. There's nothing to be done."

Sara tore away from him and flung everything near to hand in any given direction. The floor trembled, thunder crashed, and the rain pelted the outside world as bitter winds rattled the windows. _"NO!_ I _refuse_ to lose you! I'll save you if it's _the last thing I do!"_

Draco watched in silence until she turned back to look at him, crying the way he'd never seen her cry before. Not over Potter, not over her parents, nor any other thing that had ever broken her heart. "Sara? Do you love me?"

"You know I do. Draco, I've always loved you. _Always."_

"Then would you do one thing for me before the end comes? The only thing I have ever truly wanted for myself? Will you grant me one final wish to bring me happiness through all eternity?"

"Anything."

"_Marry me."_

* * *

225


	17. Chapter 17: Carpe Diem

_**Chapter 17: Carpe Diem**_

Hermione stopped pacing when the door opened, and sighed relief. "Do you have any idea how long you've been gone? I thought you were dead! The three of you better have something good!"

Harry dropped into the chair behind his desk. "We couldn't get in. We tried everything, but it's warded six ways from Sunday."

Mariah joined Ron, who settled behind his desk. "Good thing we had Mariah with us. Harry and I were injured about a hundred times."

Mariah giggled. "Ron broke his ankle stepping into an old-fashioned loop trap by the back door."

Hermione turned concerned eyes to Ron. "Are you okay? Ron, you have to be more careful! _All_ of you should have expected there to be traps and Dark wards! That was just… _foolish!"_

"Of course we expected it! That's why we had Mariah stand back and watch! So she could heal us as we tried to break in! Besides, a broken ankle isn't much. It hurt like bloody hell, but Mariah healed it in just a few seconds." Hermione's eyes narrowed and Ron thought it would be a good idea to shift her focus to someone else. "Harry got his arm torn off! You should have seen it! Blood spurting all over the place… Right _disgusting_ that was. Good thing I'm quick with a spell, else that tree would have eaten his arm. I got it back, though, didn't I mate?"

Harry rubbed his shoulder. "That hurt! Actually, it's still pretty sore."

Mariah went to his side and waved her wand around the shoulder, whispering incantations under her breath.

Hermione decided against berating them further. After all, having your arm torn off was as close to learning your lesson as one could get. "Sylvia's restless. She demands to see Snape, but I told her she wouldn't be. She wants to see anyone except you, Harry."

Ron laughed. "Too bad for her, then. She'll be seeing a lot of Harry, now that they're roomies."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Have you given her lunch?"

"Not yet. I was waiting for the three of you to return. I figured we could all eat at the same time. She won't talk. She still insists there's a binding spell on her and if she tells us anything, she'll die."

Ron scoffed. "Well that's right convenient, don'tcha think?"

"I thought Mariah and I could run some tests on her, just to see if there's any truth to it, but I wanted to see what we all thought of it first."

Harry considered it. "Let her stew for a while. We'll question her again later. Maybe slip some Veritas into her food. On second thought, that's a rather Slytherin tactic. We'll think of something. She'll talk sooner or later."

Mariah pulled a chair alongside Harry and sat behind his desk. "Did you finish the cell, Hermione? Need any help?"

"I put several dampening wards on it this morning. I caught her trying to use wandless magic to move the torch flame closer to the wall. She was trying to set the building on fire!"

"She's in the basement! What an idiotic thing to do!"

"Well, she won't be doing it again. She couldn't get the simplest spells to leave that cage, no matter how hard she tried. Oh, and she didn't eat her breakfast. Um… she thought there was Veritas in it."

Harry sighed. I'll speak to her later."

Hermione lowered her voice. "She was in bed when I left her, crying. She said we've got it all wrong."

Harry sighed again. "Maybe we do, maybe we don't. If she wants to convince us, she'll tell us what we need to know."

Hermione sipped a cup of tea. "So, did you find any clues at Bellatrix's house?"

Ron grinned. "Of course we did! Mariah made all the grass go back into the dirt and we could see everything left on the ground. It was brilliant if you ask me."

Hermione turned to Mariah, surprised. "Reverse germination? You'll have to teach me that one!"

"Of course I will. I made the spell up myself when I lost a necklace in the weeds."

Ron cleared his throat. "Anyway, they're a clumsy lot. They dropped a few things near the door. Some old, some new." Ron pulled a few items from his robe pocket and lined them up on his desk for Hermione to see. "An old handkerchief, too dirty and ragged to be of much help. A couple of buttons, various odds and ends, and one fog vial of what Mariah called…"

"Aquadrite," Mariah said. She was now massaging Harry's shoulder.

Hermione was surprised. "Aquadrite! I thought they were brewing Noctris!?"

"We only came to that conclusion after examining Malfoy's work table. However, Noctris _makes sense. _Why would they need an explosive that only works underwater? I don't get it."

Ron considered it. "Maybe they're mining Magitite?"

Hermione nodded. "It's likely. Noctris requires a lot of Magitite and, now that we know the Malfoy family fortune isn't playing a part, mining is a good possibility. After all, the fog vials aren't cheap and they're buying them like crazy."

Harry was enjoying his massage, though he winced every now and again. "Noctris still seems like the most viable option. Also, if they're brewing Aquadrite _and _Noctris, it goes a long way toward explaining why they need so many fog vials."

Ron agreed. "Really! Several people buying them all over the place for more than six months? They've got to have thousands of them by now."

"Don't forget they forced Draco to give them all of his as well."

Hermione considered it. "Only Draco couldn't have had many left if he was brewing a batch a day. I took a look through the Mortis Myalgia book I found in his lab and, I have to say, that's probably the most difficult and volatile potion I've ever seen. Draco was an excellent student in Potions, but I think even Snape would have trouble brewing it."

"So he was going through vials too quickly, trying to keep enough of it stable? Enough to stave off his symptoms?" Ron wondered.

"Exactly. He was probably coming close, getting a few batches almost right, only to have them break down in the vials, and the vials can only be used once. That's why we saw him sick all the time. He wasn't getting it right. The book said it's a common occurrence." Hermione dropped troubled eyes to the floor. "I wish he would have told us he was sick. I would have helped him. I would have purchased vials for him every week so he didn't have to break the law. I would have tried to brew the potion. I don't care who he is, what he's called me, or how much I dislike him. We owe our freedom to him. Besides, no one should have to die alone and in secret."

Silence encompassed the room. All eyes were downcast, contemplative, and depressed. Harry sighed. "We'll do what we can for him, now that we know. Snape is brewing the potion for him, I'm certain of that, and he can have unlimited fog vials. That's one reassurance. I'm not sure if he'll be able to get the remedies to Draco, but we all know he'll find a way if one exists."

Hermione dropped the quill she was mangling onto the empty parchment before her. "Any idea of where they could be? I mean, we might be able to help them in some way if we knew."

"Not a clue. Snape came to ask me if I knew, so he doesn't know, either. Sara spoke to him in the fireplace, so I can only hope she was able to tell him. She didn't tell me." Harry thought of her as she'd been that day, so thankful to see him, run down, and emotionally distressed. It was so hard to think of her suffering, alone in the world with only a dying friend for comfort, penniless and confused. He still remembered the relief he'd heard in her voice as he'd hugged her. It was the sound of coming home, of finding something cherished that was lost. It was the sound of long-awaited contentment. Harry's heart twisted in his chest as he thought of Sara and he left his chair without a word, hurrying up the stairs to his flat.

* * *

Draco wished Sara could answer the door while he hid in the closet with his wand drawn again, but she was exhausted, sore, and in need of recovery. The hard raps came again, and Draco cracked the door. "Who is it?!"

"Martin Adamo. I'm a friend of Sara's."

"She isn't here."

"She was supposed to owl me last night and she never did. She was hurt!"

Draco opened the door. The concern in Martin's voice led him to allow the stranger to step in. "She's going to be fine. She was in no shape to owl anybody. Besides, we don't have an owl."

Martin chuckled. "She said as much, but said she'd work it out. She came home then?"

Draco grew angry. "She came home a bloody mess!" Draco drew his wand and pointed it at Martin. "Tell me who hurt Sara or I'll kill you in their place."

"Lower your wand and I'll tell you anything you want to know."

It was a long moment before Draco complied. He gave the visitor a distrustful glance as he stowed his wand. "I'd offer you a cup of tea, but I'm not that friendly."

Martin smiled. "You're her brother?"

"_Hardly."_

"Well, whoever you are, you clearly care about her a great deal."

"I'm Draco, and you have no idea."

"She didn't tell you what happened to her?"

Draco sneered. "She was unconscious! I thought she was _dying!"_

"I'm sorry. Really I am. I would have accompanied her home, but I was in similar shape. I barely made it home myself. We got into a spot last night, me and Sara. She saved my life, actually. I'm sure I would have been killed if she hadn't countered a rather nasty curse and got me on my feet. I won't even mention the tornado thing she did. I've never seen anything like it."

"That's because no one else can do it! Don't you know anything?"

"Look, I know you're upset and you have every right to be, but I came here to thank her."

"She's asleep. After all, she's covered in bruises and sore all over. Her arm was snapped right in two and her head was split open." Draco raised his voice, too angry to contain it. "How could you have _left_ her to make it home on her own?!"

"Maybe I should come back when she's feeling better."

"Maybe you should get lost! Sara doesn't need to be in harms way. She doesn't need _you_ around to put her there, either!"

Sara smiled at the bottom of the stairs. "Draco, it's all right. Martin saved my life the other day. I didn't tell you about it because you over-react, but he's a friend and I wish you would give him a chance to explain."

"Sara, you should be in bed! I didn't mean to wake you." He went to her and, putting an arm around her back, he helped her to the sofa. "I'll get you some tea."

Sara smirked. "Martin, would you like some tea?"

Draco scowled at him and left the room without waiting for a reply.

"Um… no. I think I should go soon. I just came to thank you and make sure you made it home safe."

"Don't mind Draco. I gave him quite a scare is all."

"He's rather protective."

"I'm the same way with him. Besides, I can hardly complain that someone cares enough to worry about me, cumbersome though it might be at times."

"I'm glad there's someone looking out for you. I was so worried last night, but I couldn't make it here."

Sara smiled. "Are you okay, Martin? You were a little lethargic last I saw you."

"I'm better, although I still feel like I was thrown under the subway. Next time we'll be sure to check the shower stall for evil teenagers."

"_Next time?_ You can't possibly expect me to help you again! Draco would lose his mind! I'm sorry, but I think our adventures have come to an end."

"Think about it at least. I'm going it alone if you refuse."

"You'll get yourself killed!"

"But I'm so close to having them all! I'll recover the third in a few days."

"What about the one you said was lost?"

"I think I may have figured out how to find it. I'll explain when the time comes. There's still a lot to be worked out, so I'm just focusing on the third for now."

Draco came back into the room, pushing a teacart with exactly two clattering cups and saucers. He handed Sara hers, throwing Martin a hateful glare.

"Thank you, Draco."

"Is it to your liking?"

"You know it's perfect. It always is when you make it."

They shared a warm, private smile and Martin stood. "Do you mind if I use your bathroom before I go? It's a long walk home."

"Certainly." Sara went to give him directions to the lav, but he'd already left the room.

Draco hurried to the doorway and peered around the corner. "Odd. He knows right where it is. I didn't let him in past the foyer. He's been here before."

"Many of these old houses have a similar floor plan. It doesn't mean anything."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Even if I'd been in a similar house, I'd still ask where it was for fear I'd end up wandering aimlessly and opening closet doors."

"As would I. It still doesn't mean anything. In case you hadn't noticed, Martin doesn't have the same level of manners we do. He's the sort who'd rather bumble around the house than ask for directions."

"_Crass._ Sara, where do you find these people? I'm going to make sure he found it okay." Draco left the room in search of Sara's friend.

The door of the lav was closed, but a noise down the hall drew his attention and Draco gripped the handle of his wand. He continued on in silence.

Martin was in an office, probably used by Sara's father, sifting through drawers and opening cupboards. He was a person on a mission, working so fast it was a wonder he hadn't made a mess of the place. Draco formed his thoughts and pushed them toward Sara. _Your friend is rooting through your father's office. _

_WHAT!!?_

_He's looking for something. Any idea what it is?_

_No! I can't even imagine! Draco, that room hasn't been touched in ten years! How could he? Everything was exactly as Dad left it._

Draco could feel Sara's anguish, heard the tears in her mental voice, and his rage battled his desire to observe. It was too late, though. Sara came running down the hall and flew into the office.

"_Martin!_ What in the _HELL_ do you think you're doing! I demand an answer at once!"

"I'm sorry! Um… I didn't mean to… I mean, I just came in looking for a quill and a bit of parchment so I could give you my phone number!"

"_YOU SHOULD HAVE ASKED!" _Sara went to the desk, ran remorseful fingers along the blotter on the desk, dropped into the chair, and burst into tears.

Draco grabbed Martin by the arm and shoved him out into the hallway. "Now you've done it! I don't know what you thought you were going to find in there, but Sara takes the death of her parents rather seriously and you just disturbed a rather painful ghost so you're lucky she'd kill me if I hurt you." Draco opened the door and shoved Martin out. "Come near her again and you'll wish you'd never met her!" Draco slammed the door and hurried back to the office.

"Draco, this door was closed. How could he just barge in here like that? It's unthinkable!"

Draco fell to his knees beside the chair and hugged her as she wiped her eyes. "You said he had no manners, didn't you? I don't think you should talk to him anymore. I don't know what he was looking for in here, but it wasn't a quill. I watched him, Sara. He was up to something."

* * *

"Harry! What are you doing here? How did you get in?"

A little _Alohamora_ was how he'd gotten in, but Harry smiled and lied. "The super. I thought I'd surprise you with a bit of redecorating if you're up to it?"

Christina looked Harry over and laughed at the paint splotches on his face, hands, and clothes. "I just got sacked from my first day at work, so why not?"

"I know how much you hate the colors. Especially this ghastly red room."

"You've painted the living room white?"

"This is primer. I brought a nice, bluish cream for in here. Have a look." Harry popped open another can and watched her smile widen. "It's perfect! So subtle, understated, yet colorful. Got an extra brush?"

"You don't think I'm going to do all this alone, do you? Right there next to the primer. You get the corners and I'll start with the roller. I poured you some soda."

"We could use another drop cloth over here. Wait, I've got the perfect thing." Christina went into her room and returned with the comforter from her bed. She ran the blue-gray brush across it and grinned at Harry. "Oops. Guess I'll have to buy another one."

"Pity. It completed your bedroom with such dreadful harmony. It tied all that ugliness together in a way no other comforter could."

"May it rest in pieces." Christina watched as Harry chuckled and went back to the wall he was working on. "Harry? Why are you so good to me?"

Harry considered this for a long moment. His mind pondered many possible answers. Was it because he was lonely? Because she was a lost soul who he could relate to? Because he missed Sara and needed a diversion to keep him from losing his mind? Because she looked like Sara? Because she _wasn't_ Sara? Because she was sweet and nice and uncomplicated? Because she was off limits? Because she was a mystery, even to herself? Because she was the only girl who liked him without knowing he was _The Boy Who Lived,_ or that he'd defeated the Dark lord? Harry smiled. He had no answer. "Because you look like a goat?"

Christina laughed and slapped the wet paintbrush across his cheek. "I'm serious, Harry. You're too good to me. All I do is ask you a million questions and drive you insane."

"Good thing I was already insane then, else I might be upset about that." Harry showed her a mischievous grin, and then ran the paint roller down the bridge of her nose.

Christina laughed again and tried to wipe the paint away, smearing it all over her face. The moment she gave up, Harry ran the roller down her nose again and laughed until his face was flushed with the high color of amusement. "You look ridiculous, you know."

Christina smiled as she stepped forward and kissed him, to his surprise, then stepped back and slapped the brush across his other cheek.

Harry grinned. "Stop trying to distract me. I'm trying to paint a wall, in case you hadn't noticed, and it's a very important wall!" Harry scraped the paint off his cheek and wiped it across her forehead. He grinned wider before he kissed her, stopping only to wipe the rest of the paint on his cheek across her face.

"No fair! That was just plain _dirty,_ Potter!"

"Get back to work or I'll be forced to call the goat herder."

Christina kissed him again as she secretly ran her hand over the paintbrush she held. Her eyes fell closed for a moment as she lingered and let her paint covered hand caress his face.

Realizing she'd just smeared paint straight down to his neck; Harry quietly rolled paint across his palm and fingers before pressing the hand flat across her face. He pulled it away and smiled. "What is it they say about he who laughs last?"

"He who laughs last snogs goats and smells of cabbage."

"That's the one."

"Now get painting or we'll still be at it when it's time for tea. I'm getting hungry,

aren't you?"

"You could probably find some good grazing down at the park. I'll have this finished by the time your fat arse gets back." Harry smirked and went back to rolling paint on the wall.

"Oh, you are _so_ in for it. Just you wait, Harry. Just you wait."

* * *

Sara couldn't be right. There had to be _some_ way for him to make money without social security and all that other nonsense she'd mentioned. Determination drove his pace. If there was a way, he was going to find it. He refused to be a failure in Sara's eyes. _Not now._ Not at this crucial moment in time.

It both frightened and elated him, that she was considering marrying him. It didn't seem real. She'd based their friendship on denying him for so long; he'd accepted long ago that this dream of his wasn't anything more than that. Just a dream and nothing more. He didn't – couldn't – believe her answer would be yes. She'd think about it but, in the end, she'd come to the same conclusion she always arrived at when it came to him.

He wasn't a stupid person. Draco knew he was asking far too much of her. It was Potter she loved, after all. No matter how many fights they got in, no matter how many times he made her cry, no matter if she'd thrown him out of their bedroom. No matter if he'd divorced her. Sara would always love Harry more, and so Draco was realistic in his expectations. He knew he'd be getting a negative answer.

His father had been wrong. An heir wasn't the most important thing right now. It would have been nice, and the thought of a child brought a bittersweet smile to his face, but perhaps it would do the world a favor if the Malfoy line died with him. After all, they'd never done anything noteworthy, had they? Anything _good?_ Perhaps it was best to leave the name of Malfoy to infamy and the history books.

It was _doing something good_ that mattered now. Being a person Sara could be proud of, becoming whatever it was he needed to be so he could leave this world with peace of mind and contentment in his heart. Without her, he would die a lonely and miserable soul who had never known the true realization of love.

It was the ratty Army jacket, battered trousers, and clean hair that attracted his eye. The man stood alone on the corner, leaning against the side of a brick building near the bus stop. He looked to be one of the dregs, though not homeless. He was perfect, Draco decided, and approached him with little hesitation.

"Pardon me, but where would one go for a job if they were lacking the proper documentation?"

The man chuckled. "I've never heard of an illegal alien from England. How the hell'd you sneak in from frigging _Europe?"_

Draco smiled as he lied. "Canada."

"Yeah, easy crossing up there, but why bother? Half this city would give their right arm to wind up in Europe and here _you_ are."

"I have my reasons, so just answer the question!"

"Don't they have manners in England? Then again, you people are famous for being a little high-strung. Do you really stick your pinky out when you drink tea?"

"Don't you know anything? It's for balance; everyone knows that! What a ridiculous question."

The man in the green military coat laughed aloud with his cold hands curled in the big jacket pockets. "Man, that's just too funny."

Draco considered cursing him with a nasty bout of laryngitis or a rather itchy rash, but he needed an answer and he preferred not to go through this with yet another person. "I don't take well to being laughed at and I don't suppose anyone else does, either. If you're going to be rude, then I'll warn you now; I'm better at it than you are, so give it up while I'm still in a good mood."

"Sorry, man. Chill out. Didn't mean to offend."

"Apology accepted. Now, if you'll be so kind, where might I find a job?"

"Slim picking in a city this size. Unemployment's _always_ through the roof. Homeless all over the place. A factory's your best bet, over in the garment district, but most of them have gone legit with the crackdowns and all that. You might get a gig driving a cab, but the ability to speak English seems to be a drawback. Besides, I doubt they'd know what to make of you."

"I don't know how to drive a car."

"Then how'd you get around in England?"

"I had a driver."

"Lost it all, eh? Another dot-com that went bust?"

Draco had already thought of this one. "Stock market."

The man nodded as if he knew all about _that._ "I hear ya. Lot of that going around, too. Always has been, probably always will be unless people learn not to put all their eggs in one basket."

"I don't want to work in a factory."

"I know a guy that makes deliveries. Loads up his truck over in the garment district every morning and he's always in need of a hand or two to help out. He doesn't pay much and it's a lot of lifting, but he appreciates an education. I think he'd take you on and it's all under the table."

"What does that mean? Under the table?"

"Off the books. No taxes. No _proper documentation. _It's cash at the end of the day and, if he thinks you did well, he'll ask you back."

"I've never loaded a truck. Is it difficult?"

"It's strenuous, but any idiot with good arms could do it."

"Would you say it's better than the factories?"

"Any day."

"Excellent. How do I get this job?"

The man in the army jacket looked long and hard at Draco. "You ever worked a day in your life?"

"That's beside the point."

"I didn't think so. You're in for a real treat, then. You'll want to go around back." The man pulled a cash register receipt from his pocket and scribbled an address on the back. "Ask for Leon. You'll see his truck. Leon's an old white haired guy. Tiny, about five-three. You can't miss 'im."

"Could I tell him who sent me?"

"Sure. Andy. Andy Barth. I've worked with him before. He'll know who I am."

"I'm Kevin, and I thank you for your assistance."

"Then will you take a little advice? And I'm really not trying to be rude, but lighten up, man. You're just a tad bit _stiff,_ if you know what I mean. Learn some slang. Stop talking all proper. New Yorkers are laid back."

"Thanks. I'll see what I can do."

"I'm down here a lot if you ever want to hang out. I could teach you a thing or two about fitting in around here."

"Until then." Draco smiled and shook his hand, cringing at the idea of spending time with this uneducated street trash. "Goodbye, Andy."

"Yeah later. Nice meeting you, Kevin. Good luck with the job. Hope everything works out for you."

* * *

Harry poised his hand to knock, but the door swung in before he had the chance. He stood on the step a moment, unsure what he should do.

A female voice called to him from deep inside the house. She was annoyed, and impatient. _"Well?_ Are you going to stand there all day or are you coming in?"

"Oh, sorry." Harry stepped inside and looked around at an odd assortment of magical clutter. It hung from the walls, the ceiling. It was piled on chairs in the corner and crowded into cabinets.

"You can stare at my stuff on the way out. I haven't got all day."

Harry tore his eyes away and hurried into the next room. It was dark, even with the candles and the hurricane lamps that burned here and there, placed at random. Furnishings were old, deep wood, well polished, and sparse. To Harry's surprise, the room was decorated with taste and without clutter. Rich tapestries and elegant brocades adorned the walls and lay across careworn wooden surfaces. It was clean and smelled of lemon oil. On the wall was a scrying mirror. A piece of black glass in which he saw only his reflection.

"It's about time you showed up. I've been expecting you for days. You certainly like to take your time, don't you Potter?"

"I've been rather busy."

"Don't lie to a seer. There's no point in it. What you mean to say is that I wasn't a priority. Your new friend proved more important than the impending doom of the wizarding world, am I right?"

"That's one way to look at it."

"That's the _only_ way to look at it, if you ask me. You believe the prediction I gave you. You wouldn't be here if you didn't. Your spell books have been stolen, you've finally turned your eyes to the right path, yet you think _painting a wall_ is more important than the woman who is hidden below your office."

"Who told you that?!"

"Are you going to do nothing except stand there and ask me stupid questions? Or are you going to sit down?"

Harry sat.

"Give me your hand."

"Hawthorn, before we begin, I want to apologize for Hermione. She's never put much stock in divination. I'm sorry she was rude to you."

"Apologizing for the actions of others is meaningless, Potter. What you're really trying to say is that you're sorry you didn't stop her."

"Yes. I suppose that's what I'm trying to say." Harry laid his hand on the table palm up and extended his arm until the hand was within her reach.

Hawthorn gave his palm a passive glance, just held his hand in both of hers and closed her eyes. "So, the creep's secret is out. _It's about time._ He didn't want your wife to know. It was foremost on his mind, deep-seated, and so I picked up on it instantly. Your wife is a strong diviner, yet she couldn't see it at all. I was surprised."

"Sara told me once that she has a hard time divining from people she loves, and Sara definitely loves Malfoy."

"She can't divine _anything_ from you, though, can she?"

"No, it's only an intuition and I seem to have it, too."

"Think about that next time you go painting. Think about it _hard,_ Potter."

"Sara isn't my wife anymore. There isn't anything left to think about."

"There will be. You need to get over yourself before it's too late."

"It's already too late. Next subject. Am I wrong to see Christina?"

"How the hell do _I_ know? Are you really here to discuss your sordid love life? If you have to ask, you already know the answer and you're just looking for confirmation. Well, I'm not going to indulge you."

"Here's an idea, why don't you tell me what you see, and I'll just listen. I'll ask a question here and there, but I'm here because of something you said when you came to my office. You told me you saw everything on fire and that I was holding a dead woman and crying. If that has any truth to it at all, then it's someone I care about. I need to know who to protect if I find myself near anything burning."

"I couldn't see her face."

"What color hair did she have?"

"I don't know. I only knew that the person you held was dear to you, that she was dead, and that you felt great anguish."

"What were the burning buildings?"

Hawthorn hesitated, growing visibly distressed. She dropped Harry's hand and left her seat. She went to a table in the corner and poured herself a drink. "Want some, Potter?"

"Is it water?"

"No, you idiot, it's _vodka._ Who keeps water in a liquor decanter?"

"What were the buildings, Hawthorn? I can tell that you know."

Hawthorn took a long drink and lowered the glass with a trembling hand. Her bitterness was replaced by fear and trepidation. "It was Diagon Alley."

"That's impossible!"

"I don't know how, or when, or whom. I only know that it will be soon. I want you to listen carefully. Someone gave you a cloak some years ago. It's shiny and iridescent in the light."

"The dragon hide cloak Charlie sent from Romania!"

"Whatever. Just get it out of your trunk and give it to the woman who is with child."

"Hermione!"

"It's very important that she carry it with her. Do you understand me Potter? You _MUST_ make her carry it with her!"

Harry leapt from his seat. _"What happens to her?!_ Tell me what happens to Hermione!"

"I get no clear picture. I only know she needs that cloak."

"Hawthorn. Listen to me. If anything comes to you, anything at all, regarding the dead woman or my friend Hermione, you need to let me know right away. Owl me, drop by, whatever works best for you; just get me that information as though your life depended on it. I don't care how small the detail. An item of clothing, a shoe, a piece of jewelry, a feeling, it doesn't matter how insignificant it may seem. I want you to tell me. I will pay for your services."

"I'll decide when and if payment's due. Right now, the fact that you believe me is payment enough."

Harry gave her a sincere smile through his mounting unease. "If Dumbledore taught me anything, it's how to read honesty in others. You _believed_ everything you said to me. Now, what can you tell me about the spell books? Do you know anything about that situation?"

"It's confusing. More than one sinister plot is brewing, yet they are all tied together somehow, all parts of a greater evil. It's hard to say what means what, but there are a few things I can tell you, and I want you to listen up, Potter. I've had dreams, waking visions. I've heard voices so adamant only a good strong drink can drown them out, or else they'd drive me mad. What I have seen makes little sense to me in the bigger picture, but they aren't hard to decipher one by one. There is one vision that I've seen many times."

"What did you see?"

"A shadow falls across the face of the minister, and then it fades to darkness."

Harry sat back, reeling inwardly. No, that wasn't hard to decipher at all. "I know what it means."

"You'd have to be a complete idiot not to. He's going to die, or something very bad is going to happen to him."

"There's only one course of action. I'll have Ron start on a plan the moment I get back. What else? Don't leave anything out."

"There are a lot of little things. I know they're relevant, but they don't make any sense. I see something like an inactive volcano. Maybe it's a deep crevice or a cave, I can't really tell. Then there are the tents. I _think_ they're tents anyway. It could be a hell of a lot of sheets hung out to dry, flapping in the breeze. Little canisters of blue water. Then there are the Dementors, but they've been addressed in the paper. They aren't just leaving, Potter. Something's up with them, and good luck finding out what it is. Better you than me, that's for sure."

"Anything else? Anything a little more solid?"

"The woman in your basement."

Harry scowled. "Sylvia. She's one of the key players in all this."

"I see two women in my mind. Two sides of the same person, and in these visions both are unable to talk."

"We were considering forcing her to, but it seems a bit unethical. Given the circumstances…"

"Don't do it. I don't think she can, Potter. Something floats around her, a black cloud of toxic mist and it's threatening. I think she is cursed."

"She said she was. She told me she'd die if she told me anything. I called her a liar."

"Ever the doubting Thomas. She wasn't lying, but you're right not to trust her. She's dangerous. She'll kill you if she has the chance, but you need her for something. She's important, the key to a hidden future. Keep her safe."

"I will." Harry stood and placed several Galleons on the table with a troubled smile. "You've been a tremendous help, Hawthorn."

"I told you no payment was due."

"Then it's a gratuity. A donation if you prefer."

"If you insist."

"Good day, then. I' hope to hear from you soon." Harry turned and pushed in his chair.

Hawthorn stood and took a nervous gulp from her glass of vodka. "Wait."

Harry looked at her, took in her trembling hands and her ashen face. "There's something you haven't told me."

"I saw something else while the fires of Diagon Alley were burning. Something dreadful. I couldn't bring myself to say it, but you need to know."

Harry rounded the table and stood before her. His voice became gentle and soothing. "It's all right. Tell me what you saw."

"Chaos. People running, curses shouted. There are white masks and…" Hawthorn took a deep, steadying breath. "And… in the night sky, I saw the Dark Mark."

* * *

Harry looked up as the basement door creaked on its hinges. "How is she?"

Ron shrugged. "Okay I guess. Miserable. _Nasty._ Acid-tongued. Her usual self. You should see the cage, Harry. Hermione and Mariah did a really good job. It looks right homey if you ask me. She can't complain."

Harry smiled. "She will." He glanced over at Hermione, who was busy stuffing the dragon hide cloak into her bag. She had protested, but not for long. He was so rarely authoritative toward her that she'd understood he knew something she didn't. He'd become so adamant that she'd taken the cloak and promised to keep it near to hand at all times. Harry had tried not to frighten her, but her eyes had widened when he demanded she not even go to the lav without it. Now that she was taking him seriously, Harry felt a weight lift from his chest and he breathed a little easier. "Ron, Hermione. There's something we need to do. We could be arrested if we're found out, and I can't even explain why we're doing it, so I ask you to trust me."

Hermione gave him a curious glance. "Of course we trust you, Harry! Haven't we always?"

"Trusting me this time means going into something blind, something big, without question. I can't explain myself right now, so if you want to decline, I understand."

"We've already got a woman living in a cage in your basement, mate. Against her will at that. I don't think one more thing's going to matter."

Harry started shredding the quill in his hand. "We need to slip Veritas to the agents."

"Steve and Swan? Are you out of your mind?"

"We need to know if they're trustworthy. Everything depends on it."

Ron sighed and dropped into his chair. "What are we going to do, Harry? Whatever it is, it's getting more _illegal_ by the second."

Harry hesitated, wondering if he should even tell them, and then plunged ahead. "We're going to kidnap the Minister of Magic."

Ron and Hermione sat back in unison, speechless.

* * *

Harry pulled his wand in the shadows of a single candle. It wasn't late, but he had no idea who was ringing the bell, or how they'd gotten into the shop to approach the door of his flat. One look through the peephole and he flung the door wide.

"Sara!" Harry threw his arms around her and held her close for far too long. She didn't seem to mind, clinging to him in return. "I didn't expect to see you until the Dead Nexus concert! Are you all right? Is it Malfoy again?"

"Yes and yes. The question is, are _you_ all right? I could feel your despair. I had to see you, but I know you wanted me to come." She kissed him and let her forehead rest against his shoulder.

Harry smoothed her hair and sighed. "I miss you, Sara. You have no idea how much."

Sara tightened her hold on him. "Let's just stay like this a moment. Don't let go of me. Not yet."

"Please come home. I can't stand not seeing you."

"I wish I could. I miss you, Harry. All the time. _Everything_ reminds me of you it seems and it kills me to know what's become of us."

"What's become of us is my fault."

"I don't care whose fault it is. Besides, I'm willing to share the blame."

"We needed a break, Sara, not a divorce. I thought I was being kind to you, sparing you from suffering me any longer, but all I did was make us both that much more miserable. It was a mistake. A terrible mistake. Come home to me. We'll try to work it out. I know it's going to take a long time, years probably, but we can get back to being friends for a start."

Sara closed her eyes and tried to swallow the anguish that threatened to choke her, or to drive her to tears. She lifted her head and stepped away. "There's something I need to talk to you about. I warn you, Harry. This will be a difficult conversation."

"Draco told you what was wrong with him?"

"Yes, he told me."

"I'm sorry, Sara. We're all upset by the news, but I know how you feel about him. I can imagine how I'd feel if it was Hermione or Ron. You must be devastated. His hand found her shoulder and she closed hers over it, holding it there.

Sara's voice was small and broke with emotion. "Harry, my most beloved friend is going to die."

"I wish there was something I could do."

"He's asked something of me. His last request, he says. The only thing he's ever wanted. The only thing that was ever important to him."

"I'm listening."

"If someone you loved told you they had only one wish; if they said a single act of kindness would be enough to bring them happiness through all eternity, and you knew that person was dying, how would you feel? Would you move mountains to give them what they so desired?"

"I imagine I would. If it was in my power to give, of course I would."

"You would choose selflessness over selfishness?"

"I would realize it wasn't about me."

"So you would understand? You would think I was doing the right thing if I put my own feelings aside to make him happy before we lose him forever?"

"I happen to know the only thing that would make Draco happy. I've known it ever since school. I tried to tell you so many times, but you never really understood. You knew a different Draco Malfoy than the rest of us. There's a reason you're the only friend he has, and that's because he was a different person around you. There was a side of him no one else had ever seen, and it was reserved for you and you alone. He became decent, as pleasant as his rotten disposition would allow, always on his best behavior. He wanted nothing more than for you to think he was good enough, to look on him with your good favor and, above all, he wanted you to love him. He didn't care what anyone thought of him. He made a fool of himself for your benefit. The only opinion that mattered to him was yours."

"I've seen both of his sides."

"You brought out the very best in him, Sara. You made him a better person. He changed every loathsome part of himself to please you, but nothing really worked, did it? He ended up alone in the world, an outcast, despised by the Slytherins, despised by the many people he'd crossed over the years. No one could stand him, except you. He ostracized himself from the only friends he had for you, so it would be easy to say that you owe him." Harry heard himself saying the words and he believed everything he was saying, but the thought of anyone touching Sara made him nauseas and he longed to sit down.

"I agree, but do I compromise what I most want? Do I risk everything to repay his kindness and loyalty? Gamble with the rest of my life? It would be easy to say that the level of friendship I've shown him is repayment enough, but I've suffered the misery in his eyes for far too long."

"You have to do what you think is right, no matter how I feel about it. You know I'll give you a selfish answer, and I can't make this decision for you. Who you shag is your business. The very thought makes me ill, but I do understand."

"He's asked me to marry him, Harry."

Harry's heart nearly seized in his chest. He'd known Draco would want Sara's romantic companionship, but he never dreamed it would be so profound. "He… he _what??"_ Harry dropped onto the couch, too shocked to stand. "He could live for _years! YEARS,_ Sara!"

Sara sat beside him and took his hand. "Now do you understand my dilemma? I love Draco. Love him more than anyone else I know, except you. Harry, you're the one I could never live without. I gave you my heart, you broke it, but it will always be yours. I need to know if we stand a chance."

"I feel the same, Sara. You _know_ I feel the same, but the truth is; I don't know if we stand a chance. We aren't ready to be husband and wife again, but we could with time. I _love_ you enough for there to be a chance, if that's what you want to know."

Sara choked back sudden tears and buried her face in his shoulder as he wrapped her in a fierce embrace. "I have to do this, Harry! His life has been nothing but unending misery and darkness. I know we need time, but Draco doesn't _have_ time anymore. Every moment that ticks away is one less moment left for him. I can't send him to his grave without ever knowing happiness. What remains of his life has been placed in my hands and I can't throw it away."

Harry felt a knife in his chest, twisting until he thought he'd scream from the pain of it. "I understand, Sara. As much as it kills me to say this, I don't think you have a choice." Some retched, horrified part of him threatened to rise up in protest, shout to the rafters and insist she refuse, but the rational side of Harry, the side that cared, that understood her situation and wanted to do the right thing, sat in silence. "Who knows? Maybe I'll still be sitting here, waiting for you to come back to me when he's gone, knowing it's my own fault that I lost you."

Sara lowered her voice to a whisper, wanting him to know her words weren't vicious or accusatory, only truthful. "What about Christina? I can see the guilt in your eyes, Harry. You're free to do as you choose, but how can you say such things to me when there's someone else in your life?"

"She's not who I'm thinking about right now. She's not the one who can make me feel like the world is crashing down around me. Who can tear my heart out with a few well-chosen words. Sara, she could never hurt me the way you can. I could never feel about her the way I feel about you."

"That's exactly what I've been trying to say to you. No matter where life leads me, no one will ever take your place. No one ever could." Sara raised her head and let her hand caress his cheek. "Harry, you're crying."

"Promise you'll come back to me someday." He took her hand and traced a line as it broke around an island in her palm.

Sara's voice was a pained whisper as she watched his hand in hers. "I can make no such promises. You know I can't, and neither can you."

"You said you misread it. Tell me what it means."

Sara smiled through her tears. "Someday I will, Harry. That's one promise I _can_ make."

"Make me another. Don't come back here. Don't come to Diagon Alley. If you want to see me, send an owl from London. It isn't safe here for you. I can't explain, but I won't have you harmed."

"I assure you, I can protect myself—"

"JUST PROMISE ME! Can't you do that one small thing? Sara, I can't stress how important this is. _Stay away from this place!_ Promise me!"

"Fine, Harry. If I need to see you, I'll send an owl. That will be rather hard, since the ministry has taken custody of Topenga and the nearest owlry is in Diagon Alley, but I'll do what I can."

"Hedwig will find you if you need her."

Sara looked on him with sad eyes. "I guess this is goodbye then."

"Don't say that. It's _never_ goodbye." He held her for a long, drawn out moment of anguish and raging sadness, trying to be strong when all he wanted to do was beg her to stay.

"It's not forever, Harry." Sara held up her palm and gave him a tearful smile, trying hard to contain the powerful storm she longed to unleash. "This legend written in our flesh is forever. That I love you is forever." Sara kissed him and stepped away. "You are the dearest thing to my heart, Harry Potter, and one day you will find me a widow." _The black widow, _Sara thought and touched the mark Lucius had given her so many years ago. "Don't hate me for what I have to do."

Harry looked on her for what he feared would be the last time and his whispered words were unsteady, laced with despair. "I would forgive you anything."

* * *

Thunder split the night as Sara walked the deserted streets of Diagon Alley, letting the rain soak her hair and her clothes. Letting it pelt her face to mingle with the tears she cried for herself and for Harry, and for the dreams that were lost to them both. She stopped at the end of the cobbles, too overwrought to go on, feeling the end of something wonderful; knowing the most cherished part of their life was over. The key to her heart was lost.

The wind was cold as it lifted her and Sara closed her eyes as it rushed against her, letting the chill seep inside until she was standing again. Before her loomed the home they'd shared for seven years, locked and dark in its vacancy.

"Hey Missus Potter! You can't go in there!"

Sara ignored the ministry guards as she summoned what she needed and walked onto the porch in the pouring rain, not caring what they did or said. There was something she had to do, something that fractured her soul with every step.

"What are you doing? Missus Potter, you can't be here!"

Sara's words were choked with emotion as she took the brush in her hand and closed her eyes to feel the warmth and solace of tears on her face. _"Leave me alone."_

Sara sobbed as she worked, understanding at long last what Harry had felt all those years ago. This place was a tomb, the place where something sacred had died and, now that it was gone, this house that had come to represent so much had become nothing more than a testament to what was broken and lost. It was the end of everything. Sara mourned the loss and embraced her agony as she painted the doors in the darkness; black, to match the color of her soul.

* * *

"I've been waiting for you. I was starting to worry." Draco took her coat and hung it in the closet. "I didn't expect you to be gone so long."

Sara was subdued, but smiled for his benefit. "I went to see Harry. I didn't mean to worry you."

"It's ok. You're here now. I made dinner for us."

"That was nice of you. Cooking is the last thing I want to do right now."

"Come to the kitchen. We can talk while I heat it up." He took her hand and led her toward the back of the house.

Sara followed, solemn.

"Did you really spend _hours_ with Harry?"

"I needed to be alone for awhile."

"Are you all right?"

Sara sighed. "I am now, I think. Talking to Harry was more difficult than I ever thought it could be."

"What did you talk about?"

"What did you make for dinner?"

"You're changing the subject?"

"Yes."

"In that case, I've made us fish. I prepared everything, but I haven't actually cooked any of it yet. I didn't want to feed you old food that's been lying around."

"You're entirely too thoughtful. I'll cook tomorrow night. Something good. Can we afford fish?"

"I paid for it myself."

"Draco! I thought we discussed this?"

"I didn't steal it, Sara, so you can sit back down. I got a job! Well, _Kevin_ Malfoy got a job. I worked all day and I made forty dollars! I got us some wine, too, to celebrate my first day of work. It tastes like petrol, but it's better than no wine, I guess."

"You got a job? How? Where? _Doing what?"_ Sara's eyes widened. "If someone has you selling small packages of what looks to be potion ingredients…"

"Loading a truck. Over in the garment district. Some old guy named Leon asked me back tomorrow. It's _under the table."_

Sara smiled wide and held up the glass he'd given her. "To your first day of work then. May there be many more."

Sara was first to finish and she sat in her chair at the table, quiet, reflective, and at peace with her situation.

"You realize you're staring at me? I must look uncommonly good tonight."

"You look different. At least in my eyes."

Draco laid his silverware aside and pushed his plate away. "An aching back and sore arms can do that to a person." Draco sipped his wine and gave her a gentle smile. "I have something for you. I had it repaired a while ago and I've been carrying it around for months. I've been saving it for the right moment."

"Are sure this is it?"

"It doesn't matter if it is or it isn't. I'm going to live in the moment from now on. No more waiting for something that may never come."

"The Latin phrase for that sentiment is _carpe diem._ Seize the day. I think it's the perfect attitude. I decided to adopt that same philosophy myself, just today in fact."

Draco brought a small box from his pocket and closed it in her hand. "This was my mother's. I want you to have it, no matter what your answer is. It's always been yours in my mind, and that's not going to change."

Sara opened the box and looked at the diamond, glittering brilliance in every direction. Like everything he'd ever given her, the gold setting was unique, of the finest quality, and older than time. It was beautiful, far more than that, and Sara was stunned by the gesture.

"Sara?"

"Put it on me."

Draco took the box and slid the ring on her finger, smiling as he watched her consider it. "I'll get the dishes. You look exhausted."

"Yes."

Draco gathered his plate and utensils. "It's no surprise. You've been run ragged lately." He reached for her plate and her hand wrapped around his wrist.

"Draco?"

He turned and waited for her to speak.

"I'm not exhausted."

"Then why did you say yes?"

Sara gave him a warm smile. "I hope I don't end up asking myself that question."

Draco frowned and began to tremble. _"Don't do that._ Don't tell me what I want to hear, only to change your mind next time you change your mood. You can't do this to me. I'm not some heartless plaything without feelings for you to toy with when the spirit moves you." Draco turned away, confused and stricken by the grief of false hope. The very idea of allowing himself to believe it, even for a moment, only to have her take it back was harsh, acute, and unbearable. Her hand touched his arm and he was tempted to shrug it off.

"You know I wouldn't do that to you. Especially not now. I would never be so cruel to you. No more maybes. No more waiting. Draco, last night you asked me a question and my answer is yes."

Draco turned to face her. "Are you saying you'll marry me?"

Sara kissed him in lieu of answering. It wasn't one of the sweet, friendly kisses she often gave him. It was the kind that meant something, that came from within. It was the sort of affection that flowed from the heart and resonated long after it had come to pass. Sara smiled as she pulled away and took his hand in hers. "We can't afford much. My parents knew an old minister who's retired a few blocks over. If he'll perform the ceremony, we won't have to go through the department of magic and—

Sara was lifted off her feet, twirling around, and held fast against him before she knew what was happening. She laughed aloud; a musical sound he'd always loved, and threw her arms around his neck.

"This doesn't seem real to me. After all these years of wanting nothing else, to finally have it before me is too good to be true!"

"But it _is_ true! Draco, we're going to be married and you can't back out on me now."

"Something tells me I'm going to wake up soon and find I've dreamed it all."

"You thought I'd say no?"

"I was certain of it. You've been rejecting me as long as I can remember, so why would I expect this to be different?"

"To be honest, I thought I'd say no at first. Of course, marrying you was always the stuff of daydreams for me. I've never been opposed to you, but circumstances always prevailed. My refusals of late came from something else. My need to heal and my need for time. This evening I stumbled upon the notion to seize the day. I love you, Draco, and time is a luxury we no longer have."

Draco kissed her and then held her for a long moment. His voice was a pained whisper when he spoke and he felt the arms around him tighten. "I thought I would die alone, forgotten, and unloved. Thank you, Sara. This means more to me than anything ever could. I wouldn't trade it for a thousand more years."

* * *

**The Draco Memoirs**

_October 2__nd_

_Manhattan, New York City_

_Tonight, I became the future Mrs. Draco Malfoy. I am happy about it, though my heart grieves for Harry. I have hurt him, probably more than I'll ever know, but he has hurt me, too, and there's nothing to be done. Harry divorced me. He was cruel to me for years, pushing me away so hard and for so long that I was on the verge of hating him. Our relationship is damaged, perhaps beyond repair, and we both know better than to think I could simply go back and expect a miracle reconciliation. I know he still loves me, but he's right. We aren't ready to be husband and wife again. There's no saying we ever will be. As of now, I will place Harry in a little room inside my heart and I'll keep him there until the day I lose Draco to the illness that plagues him. Most people would probably wonder why I would agree to marry Draco when I still have such feelings for Harry. The answer is simple. Because I love him too much to refuse. _

_Draco is in the bath right now. His back aches from his first day of hard labor. What I didn't tell him is that I found the means to make some money as well today. He thinks I went to work at the hotel, scrubbing toilets, as he calls it. I intended to go. I made it all the way there, only to stand on the walk across the street, knowing how the idea devastated him, and I found I couldn't disappoint him that way. I didn't want to cause him such pain, knowing it was his plight that drove me to such desperate measures. _

_I walked the streets for a while, trying to work things out in my head, wondering how we would survive the bitter winter without enough money for coats even. Wondering how we would continue to eat everyday. I was bothered by a million fears for our livelihood when I came to pass an older gentleman on the street corner. He was playing a battered saxophone with his eyes closed as passers-by dropped donations into the case, open at his feet. He played slow jazz as though the music ran through his veins and I was stopped in my tracks. He was fantastic, better than that even, and I fell in beside him. _

_It was a song I knew well, as my mother used to sing it when she performed. Every honey note haunted me and I stood there, lost in the ghost of memory, and let my eyes fall closed, too. I became my mother in that moment, and when I sang, soft and low, it was her voice I heard in my ears, not my own. I felt him turn and look at me. The music faltered a bit as he played, but he didn't stop. His song became mellower, smoother, and we fell into perfect rhythm. _

_When the rapturous song was over, the man looked at me and smiled. "I got more tips in the past three minutes than I got all day." That was the first thing he said to me. He said my voice was even prettier than the rest of me, which made me smile, too. He was such a sweet old guy, and I loved his kind brown eyes, surrounded by careworn, leather skin. His dark wrinkles were laugh lines, though it was clear he'd fallen on hard times long ago. His aura was weathered, but bright. I liked Charles immediately._

_To make a long story short, we decided to stick together and split the money we made. It was a good idea, because Charles really knew how to hit the hot spots at all the right times. We must have moved five times, from one corner to another, wherever foot traffic was heavy and tourists were plentiful. Tourists, he claimed, gave more and were ten times more likely to toss a bill or two, sometimes loose pocket change, in the saxophone case than hardened locals. We even spent some time performing on a subway platform and it was nice to get out of the cold. _

_Charles has a gig playing in a little offbeat club up in Harlem on Saturday nights, for which he claims to own one proper suit, three ties, and four hats. He asked if I had a good evening dress, glancing once at my ratty clothes, which were in far better condition than his own and, for some unknown reason, I said that I did. It was an outright lie, but Charles invited me to sing with him this weekend at the club. I was thrilled, even though he said he couldn't get me any money for it unless the manager liked me and wanted me back. I accepted the invitation, though now I'm stuck without a proper dress to perform in. _

_I don't know what to do. The money Draco stole is gone. The money from Harry and Severus has to last. Draco's job only pays forty dollars a day. It's enough to feed us and maybe even get us some much-needed clothes, but they would have to be cheap. I'll probably have to go behind his back and get them from one of the second-hand shops. Even if I took all the money we had, it wouldn't be enough for a decent dress. _

_I left Charles near Times Square, each of us with fifty-seven dollars in our pockets, and spent the long walk home deep in thought. My mind was whirling with everything that was happening. There I was, dressed in what are quickly becoming rags, freezing, singing on the street for spare change like some kind of sideshow. I was hungry, thirsty, feeling sorry for myself, grieving for everything I held dear and, for the first time in ten years, I wanted to drown myself in a bottle of something strong enough to chase it all away until I was too numb feel anymore. _

_I could sense Harry's sorrow, which mirrored my own… almost. I knew he was seeing Christina. I'd dreamed it many times over the past few weeks, and finally called on the orb this afternoon, hidden in a bathroom stall. It killed me to see how happy he was in her presence, knowing he was my husband such a short time ago. It made no sense to me; how he could be with her when I know the devastation he feels when he's alone. I mean, all this time I've had the most wonderful, caring man before me, yet I denied him, even though I am free of my vows, because my heart is too shattered to even consider another. That is, until now. Today I implemented a new outlook on life, because time is precious and shouldn't be wasted on over-indulgent self-pity. _

_Draco told me he wants to _live_ in the time he has left, to make the most of every moment, and I want to be a part of that. I could never put into words how I will miss him when he's gone. Tears drip onto this very page at the thought, so until then, I will do everything in my power to make these last days happy for him. I would drown in an endless sea of regret if I didn't._

_Sara Lemke_

244


	18. Chapter 18: Looking for Trouble

**Part Three: The Hardest Part**

_**Chapter 18: Looking for Trouble**_

Ron shifted, uncomfortable, and a twig snapped under his foot. "Bloody hell! Something's crawling on me again!"

Harry's voice, hushed and urgent, came from twenty feet away. "Quiet! Do you really want to be yelling like that when they pop in without notice?!"

Ron swiped at something on his arm. "Ewww! There's another one! They're bloody _huge_, whatever they are!"

"Ron, _be quiet!"_

"Easy for _you_ to say! I doubt there are many bugs under that invisibility cloak! I wish I got to stand near the door instead of up against a bug-infested tree on the edge of a bug-infested forest."

Mariah snapped a branch underfoot as she stepped back to look at him. "I'm getting the bugs, too, but Harry's right! You don't want to be making all that noise when Bellatrix comes home! Ouch!" Mariah slapped something off the back of her leg and then fell still again.

"It's too bad we have to stand out here all night, anyway. I wish we could get one of the monitoring devices back. Then we could sit in the X Closet and wait to hear the password _in comfort._ I swear, the bugs dropping out of this tree are enormous! Harry, trade places with me."

"Not on your life."

Mariah gave a muted shriek and the forest floor snapped and crackled beneath her. "They're _biting_ me! Oh holy Merlins! They're _spiders!_ SPIDERS!!"

Ron's throat closed as he tried to swallow his horror. He was frozen, unable to move as he came to grips with the very idea of it. _"I don't like spiders."_

Mariah ran from the edge of the woods and hid behind a tree in the lawn, panicked, brushing imaginary – and real – spiders from her hair, skin, and clothes.

Harry's head appeared above his invisible body. "Mariah! Not _that_ tree! You remember-

_Crack! Crack! Crack! _

Three figures appeared in front of the house. Bellatrix glanced around as she joked with two unknown men about some unfortunate couple they'd interrogated earlier in the night.

Ron watched them as his skin crawled; waiting for Bellatrix to speak the password so he could breathe again, but something happened then that changed their plans considerably. The tree grabbed Mariah and tried to pull her arms off, the way it had with Harry nearly a week earlier. Mariah screamed as the tree whipped her around, violent and without mercy. Bellatrix and her friends were quick to pull their wands.

Bellatrix hit Mariah with a spell that immobilized her, but the immense hurt it caused was evident as she fell to the ground. Her body went rigid, her screaming stopped, and her breaths were short little gasps of shock and pain. The trio advanced on her and Ron stood stock-still as Harry's cloak went over Mariah and she was gone.

Ron exhaled, knowing Harry had the Portkey and had taken Mariah to safety. However, that meant he was left alone here, under a tree full of spiders, without means of escape.

Bellatrix glanced around with distrustful eyes. "We'd best have a look around. There could be others." She and her companions fanned out to search the grounds.

Ron could see its silhouette in the light of the moon. The spider was the size of a child's hand and he watched as it dropped from the tree on a spindle of gossamer to land on his sleeve. Ron swallowed hard. He could feel them all over him, could feel them moving, inching closer to the exposed skin they longed to sink their creepy little teeth into. The very thought of thick, hairy spider legs crawling around on his skin filled him with loathing and his throat went dry. Ron's eyes fell closed as a wave of revulsion washed over him and he shuddered.

The spider was mere inches from his shoulder now, coming slowly up his arm. Ron watched the movement of its fat, bulbous body as eight legs performed what had to be the creepiest, most revolting act of nature known to man. The crawl of a spider.

Every fiber of his being wanted to swipe the spider off his sleeve and bolt from the safety of the trees but, with Harry gone, he was on his own against three rather nasty Death Eaters. Defending himself could prove too great a challenge. Ron thought he stood a better chance against the spiders, though remaining still, letting them have at him, was proving an even bigger challenge. Every inch of him screamed in silence.

The spider rounded his shoulder at the same time another climbed under the cuff of his trousers and started up his leg. Panic invaded what little remained of his resolve. He could no longer see the spider at all and he waited, knowing it was about to touch him, feeling its sickening weight on his shoulder. He had only a moment before the hairy spider legs touched his neck. Ron clenched his eyes shut. His breaths came slow, deep, jagged with fear and laced with madness. He imagined it crawling onto his face, maybe dropping down into his shirt, and gave the faintest whimper. The spider was crawling on his neck now, and Ron swatted it away, no longer caring if they found him. There was no torture worse than this.

Bellatrix and her companions spun around. _"Who's there!"_

Ron calmed, now that the spider was away from his neck, and went still. The one on his leg had come to a stop and he could only hope it wouldn't move again.

"It's no one, Bella. Let's go inside, I could use a drink."

"I think we all could."

Ron watched as Bellatrix approached the door. It opened without a word, at least none he could hear. No password was spoken and Ron sighed. All this had been for nothing. Harry would be back for him soon, so Ron chose a spot on the side of the house he could move to once they were inside.

A thick, heavy spider dropped into his hair and Ron lost all concentration. Sheer panic tore through him as he swatted at it, letting out a loud gasp as a branch snapped under his shifting weight. The Death Eaters turned as he ran, screaming, from the safety of the trees.

"_Avada Ked-_

"Calm down! Ron, stop fighting me! I'm not a spider!"

"Harry! GET ME OUT OF HERE!"

"You _are_ out of there. We're back in Diagon Alley."

Harry lifted the cloak from himself and Ron, who set to brushing every inch of himself in a fit of madness, knocking spiders flying from his arms, legs, back, and front.

"_GET THEM OFF ME!"_

Hermione ran onto the step. _"Ron!_ Harry, what's wrong with him?"

"Spiders. There were _spiders_ on him."

"Kill them, Harry, quick! They're poisonous!"

Harry and Hermione used a spell on the ones that were running away after making sure Ron was free of them.

Ron collapsed onto the steps of Harry's shop; once he was assured the spiders were gone. Ron now wore only his socks and his shorts, having pulled all his clothes off in a frenzy of panic. He hugged his knees and rocked back and forth.

Hermione put her arm around him. "Ron, I'm going to give you a potion to calm you down and I want you to stay here. Harry and I need to take Mariah to St. Mungo's. I can't counter the spell Bellatrix cursed her with and she has several spider bites. I can't believe you got away without being bitten yourself!"

Harry cleared his throat. "Um… Hermione? Maybe its better if you don't mention the spiders in front of Ron."

"Right, Harry. Come on let's get him inside. Mariah isn't going to make it unless we get her to the hospital soon. We need to hurry."

* * *

Even standing in front of the door was more than she could bear, so why was she here? Sara must have asked herself that question a dozen times over the past few minutes. The fact that she'd come to her parents' room with the intent of going in was the part she couldn't understand. It was unthinkable. Or was it?

What if their ghosts lingered just inside and all she had to do was turn the knob and she could be with them, talk to them? Her hand fell on the knob, where it remained, uncertain. What if those ghosts were angry with her for disturbing the dust? Disregarding the nature of their murder, trespassing on the scene of the crime? Such disrespect was unfathomable. Sara could never treat their memory with such insolence. Her hand fell from the knob and came to rest by her side. She couldn't do this.

Sara wished the ghosts she imagined would step through, if only to help her decide what was right. What if refusing to enter upset them? What if they _wanted_ her to go in, to be amongst them in the place where they'd died? What if they'd been waiting all these years for that very thing? What if they wanted so badly to see her, but she refused to enter? Sara's hand went back to the knob and turned it the slightest bit.

Then again, maybe she was simply trying to talk herself into thinking it was okay to disturb this room, if only to borrow a dress from her dead mother's closet. Her hand slipped away and back to her side once more. They might hate her for all eternity for going in. But, what if they were trapped inside this room, earthbound spirits, having waited ten years for her to come and set them free? Her hand returned to the knob, lingered, and then pulled away. "I'm sorry mum and dad. I can't do this. Not today."

Draco spoke from down the hall, solemn where he stood at the top of the stairs. "An owl came for you, but I'm sure it can wait. I'll be in the kitchen."

"No, I'll go now. I can't imagine who it's from."

"I didn't mean to disturb you. I'll stay with you if you want. I think you should go in. You know you'll have to eventually."

"I know no such thing."

"Open the door, then. I'll do it if you want. You don't have to go in right away if you don't want to, but open it. Look inside, if only just to see that there's nothing there except memories and ten years of dust."

"I don't want to talk about this."

"Use the orb. We'll have a séance of sorts and ask their permission to enter."

The thought hadn't occurred to Sara and her anger faltered as she considered it. "Maybe. I need to work things out in my head before I'm ready to go in there."

"You'll be ready if you have your parents' blessing. I'm sure you already have it, but if you need proof, I'm sure they'll give it to you."

Sara brushed past him and headed down the stairs. "I think I'd like a drink."

"There's some juice I got at the market yesterday. It's decent, considering how cheap it was."

"I meant a real drink."

Draco ran down the stairs behind her. "You gave up drinking years ago!"

"I drink whenever I want, not that it's any business of yours."

"A glass of wine with dinner or a little celebratory glass of champagne is hardly what I mean. It was a problem for you once, or am I wrong?"

"I left seventeen behind long ago, Draco. And it wasn't a problem. It was an _issue_. One I addressed. I'm having a drink, and if you're going to carry on about it, I'd prefer if you did it out of earshot."

"I'm having one, too, then."

"You don't drink."

"I'll do what I want. I'm entitled to change my mind if and when I please. As long as it doesn't involve mezcal and a worm, that is."

Sara crossed into the dining room and opened the liquor cabinet. "Fine then. Pick your poison."

"Whatever you're having is fine. I'll go get your letter if you don't mind pouring."

"I'd appreciate that." Sara watched him leave the room and breathed relief. She wanted to be alone with her grief, her confusion, and her misery. Draco always had a profound gift for imposing and, right now, she wished that letter was somewhere in southern New Jersey.

"Here you go. There's no return on it, but I already checked it for anything threatening."

"Here's your drink. Oh wait." Sara touched her finger to the liquid and the glass frosted over. "Martinis are much better cold."

"Where'd you get olives?"

"They weren't open."

"They're ten years old!"

"Then don't drink it! There's _nothing wrong_ with the damn olives, Draco!"

"You're in a nice mood."

"Then perhaps you should leave me alone?" Sara turned away and took a deep, calming breath. She sipped her drink and cringed in private.

"I'm sorry. I know it's hard for you, the thought of going in. I should be trying to help, not arguing with you."

"It's not your fault. I'm just upset and you're the only one here to take it out on. Just please stop questioning my every move."

"I didn't mean to."

"And Draco, you can't push me into going in there. When I do, it will be because I feel I need to, not because you insisted."

"I'm just trying to make you see reason, Sara. I'm not trying to be pushy, but you're holding onto your grief, clinging to it actually. You need to let it go. I know you'll go in when you're ready, but let me be there to support you. Let me be the voice of reason when all those doubts come creeping back."

"I certainly have enough of those."

"I was standing there a few minutes, you know. You want to go in. You just aren't certain it's the right thing to do. It is, Sara. Trust me when I say it is."

"I know, but it's harder than you think."

"We'll use the orb then. Perhaps it will give you the strength you need."

Sara finished her drink and set to making another. Draco glanced at his, which he'd barely touched, and drank the rest. It was like gasoline fire going down and he had to force back a retch, turning his back so she wouldn't see how disgusted he was by the taste.

"Would you make me another?"

"Insisting on keeping up with me?" Sara laughed without humor. "Hermione tried that once when Ron was drinking against her wishes. It wasn't pretty."

"I'll be fine."

"You're sick, Draco. Even with the remedy, I don't think it's a good idea."

"I'm dying. What difference does it make?"

Sara closed her eyes, fighting back the sudden urge to cry. "Do you have to be so _casual_ about it?"

"I'm sorry. That was rather insensitive of me." Draco lowered his eyes to the floor and sighed, wondering what had possessed him to say such a thing, knowing it would upset her. "Come sit with me. We'll have our drinks by the fire. You can read your letter, and then maybe you'll play the piano for me."

"It's out of tune."

"I don't care."

Sara filled his glass and carried hers to the fire. She sat beside him, watching the amber reflect in her glass with troubled eyes.

Draco put an arm around her and she leaned into his shoulder. "What does the letter say? I think it requires a response because the owl won't leave."

Sara handed him her glass and opened it.

_Sara,_

_Let me start by saying how sorry I am for going in your father's office. It was thoughtless of me, and the wrong thing to do. I never meant to upset you. Please tell Draco I'm sorry as well. He was right to be upset with me and I don't hold it against him. _

_He was right. I wasn't looking for a quill. I was looking for proof of who you were. Yes, you look like Diana Lemke, but I wasn't sure you were her daughter. I've been lied to in every way by many people over the years, so I hope you can understand my skeptical nature. Yes, I believe you are who you claim you are, but I'm the sort of guy who needs proof. I will not do this again. Your reaction to my presence in that room told me you were exactly who you claim to be. _

_I would like to see you again, and Draco if he can keep from cursing and/or killing me, long enough for me to apologize in person. I also never got to explain about the third item. I hope to hear back from you soon. _

_Your Friend,_

_Martin Adamo_

_PS: Keep the owl while you're in NY. _

Draco's brow creased in annoyance as he handed Sara her glass. "Toss that wretched owl right out the window. The nerve of him, Sara! Imagine, telling someone you were rooting through their house because you think they're a common liar! How dare he think of you that way! Do the insults from this uneducated git ever cease?"

"We don't really need the owl, but he's apologizing, Draco. Perhaps we shouldn't be too hard on him."

"Let him apologize all he wants. He's not welcome here."

"I decide who's welcome here. It was me he offended, after all."

"By offending you, he offended me. Sara, I would gladly kill any man who would make you cry. I don't know how I controlled myself that day, except I knew you'd be upset if I hurt him. I wanted to, I can assure you of that, but I didn't want to make things worse for you."

Sara leaned into his shoulder again and set her drink aside. "There are few people in this world who would take such care with my feelings. Thank you."

"Will you respond to him?"

"I don't know."

"Sleep on it then. I'm willing to help, if you were looking for company."

Sara said nothing as her mind raced, looking for a way out of sharing a bed with Draco. "Um… well, I um…"

Draco sighed. "Never mind. I can see you don't want to. This should be an interesting marriage."

Sara took a deep breath and smiled as her heart raced with fear and her conscience leapt up in protest. "You'd better not have cold toes."

"Will you be offended if I don't finish this drink? It's quite awful, if I may say so."

Sara chuckled. "Not at all, but I think I'll be finishing mine. I'd like to sit here and think for a while."

"Certainly. I'll head up to the bath. Don't be long, Sara. Don't leave me lying there alone half the night." Draco smiled and kissed her forehead.

"I'll be up soon." She watched as he stopped in the doorway to show her a warm, amorous smile. Sara smiled back and, as soon as she heard his footfalls on the stairs, she summoned her journal and a pen.

**The Draco Memoirs**

_Manhattan, New York City_

_October 5__th_

_I am in the most precarious position. I have agreed to marry my best friend. _

_While it's true that I love Draco, it feels so wrong to betray my heart's desire. For years, I thought of what it would be like to be closer to him, closer in a romantic sense, and many times dreamed of what is now in my grasp. Even as recently as August. Perhaps even September. _

_Now that I have committed myself to this relationship, regardless of the reservations I had, and continue to have, I find I cannot place Harry in a little room inside my heart. Harry IS my heart. How am I to do this? How can I share a bed with Draco when every fiber of my being calls me a betrayer? Yes, I have slept beside him more than once, but never with these intentions. I don't harbor these desires. Only for Harry. _

_For so long, I thought I might want this, but did I only want what I knew I could never have? I was married, madly in love with someone else and that someone is the only person to lay an intimate hand on me. Am I clinging to the only thing I've ever known? Too afraid to leave the safety of that trust? I am afraid, of this there is no question, but why fear Draco Malfoy? The person who has always loved me without reserve, without question, and without terms? Harry has gone his own way and has given me his blessing. He knows I have little choice in this matter. Of course I have a choice, but those are to let my closest friend die in peace, or to deny him the only happiness he has ever coveted. Draco has been steadfast in his loyalty to me. He would never hurt me and so how can I turn my back on his most exquisite feelings? There is no question of what I must do. The question is in how I could possibly do it. Harry conveyed it best when he said, "I would realize it wasn't about me." He's right, of course, it isn't about me, but this sacrifice is overwhelming. It's unthinkable. It's turning my back on Harry and my heart screams in agony at the very thought._

_Sleeping with Draco is like throwing open the door to my parents' room and tossing everything on the floor. Maybe dancing a jig on their most cherished belongings. This is the sort of disrespect I'm showing my heart. Harry, I can only hope you can forgive me. _

_I will go upstairs soon. I have finished my drink and Draco is sure to be out of the bath by now, but I think I'll have another. If I'm to do this, I'm going to need all the false confidence I can muster._

_Sara Lemke_

* * *

Taking the train into London wasn't the crazy part. The fact that she had climbed a rather steep hill and now stood at the back of the house, meaning to scale the fence, was rather loony in Christina's opinion. Since the fedoras still guarded out front, this had become her only option. She wanted answers was all, and she intended to get them. She was tired of living in the deep shadows of memory.

The fence was tall, cast iron, and topped with sharp brass arrows, but she'd come equipped for such hindrances. A large chunk of ugly comforter, folded in half, provided just the sort of cushioning she needed to get up and over without a scratch.

Christina fell to the ground with a heavy thud and looked around, expecting rabid dogs to come running like in the movies, but nothing stirred. No alarms sounded, no alert guards shouted that an intruder was on the premises. She was free, it seemed, to lurk about in relative secrecy. The house was set far enough back from the front gate that she should be able to approach the main entrance without their notice.

There was a swimming pool in back, and Christina lingered there, hoping to elicit some random memory from her surroundings. She sat in the lounges, stared at the tiki bar, and even dipped a toe in the heated water. She looked long and hard at the glass doors to the house, but jogged nothing at all. Her memory was just as blank as it had been to start.

Moving on, she kept to the shadows beside the house, catching her clothes on a rosebush here and there, thinking every time that the fedoras would hear the soft rip of her thin blouse and come running after her. She froze in these moments, waiting, hearing only her nervous breaths and the sounds of the cars passing down the hill on the high street. "I'm being paranoid," she told herself. "They're all the way out there. They can't possibly hear such tiny sounds."

_Paranoid…_ Maybe, maybe not. She had the strangest feeling of being watched, and had sustained this feeling since getting off the train from Manchester. It wasn't the fedoras this time. The fedoras didn't make the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

Here she was at last; in front of the magnificent stone house. There were no shadows here to conceal her, so Christina ran, crouched and low, all the way to the porch. It wasn't until she got there that she realized there could have been one of those motion-sensor lights that turn on when they detect any sort of movement. Maybe she'd known in the back of her mind that there wasn't? Either way, she was now exposed, standing plain as day on the front porch. If one of the fedoras ventured over to the fence, she could be seen, so Christina knew she had to think fast.

"If I lived here, where would I hide my spare key?" It was a given. She'd hidden a spare key as long as she could remember. Not because she was prone to losing things, but because she was the sort of person who was always prepared for the unexpected. Looking around, she found the spot and stretched to reach the top of a piece of stone that stuck out of the wall. Her fingers touched it at once and Christina withdrew the key with a smile of accomplishment.

It shouldn't have surprised her when the key glided into the lock without effort, but Christina held her breath anyway as she pushed open the door. The room beyond was dark and full of shadows, darker than the moonlit night, and she waited a moment on the step for her eyes to adjust.

A voice that seemed familiar to that forgotten part of her mind _purred_ from the other side and Christina started.

"I hope you aren't planning to cross the threshold without the password, Miss Safford. That is, unless you want something bad to happen."

"Who are you?"

"Just someone who's been hanging around the house the past few years."

"Why are you threatening me?"

A sinister chuckle echoed through the vast room. "I suggest you learn the difference between a threat and a warning. This house is warded."

"Warded?"

"Yes, and Potter did a rather thorough job of it, as did the Aurors. You don't want to cross that doorway. I can assure you of that."

"Potter? You don't mean _Harry_ Potter, do you?"

"Of course I mean _Harry Potter!_ You've always had a way with ignorance. I see nothing has changed."

Christina thought it was about time she tried a little trickery, considering this person thought her ignorant. "Where is Draco? Have you seen him?"

"Preoccupied with the former _Mrs._ Potter, I imagine. You must know _by now_ that Draco ran away with Sara. It's not exactly news anymore and I hardly think it should come as a surprise to you."

"Why shouldn't it?" The fact that her ex-boyfriend had run off with Harry's wife and that Harry knew all about this house was rather shocking, though Christina did her best to hide her confusion.

Lucius rolled his eyes. "Because I told you about it the day before you packed your bags and ran out of here with a bottle of whiskey and a pocket full of self-pity."

"So _that's _it!"

"I assumed you went to Potter, but then he arrived here, looking for you."

"I went to my flat in Manchester, but I had a spot of trouble along the way."

"Tell me, Christina, do you recall owning a flat in Manchester?"

"Actually, no. What do you know about it?"

"I'll could tell you, but what fun would that be? Telling you the password, telling you why you recently acquired a flat in Manchester… These are favors I would be doing, am I wrong?"

"I suppose they could be considered favors."

"For my kind, favors _always_ require some sort of compensation. Nothing is free, Miss Safford."

"What is your price?"

As Christina listened to his whispered instructions, she placed a hand on the doorframe, not believing for a moment that some terrible thing would happen if she went inside. After all, what did it mean to be _warded?_ Besides, passing a hand over the threshold wasn't _entering_.

Christina suddenly found herself suspended by four ropes in midair as if she were caught in a spider web and unable to break free. The ropes wound tight around her arms and legs and stretched into the darkness, anchored, it seemed, by nothing. A cold, piercing ache shot through her and Christina gasped. Every light in the house came to life, illuminating most of the yard and shouts sounded from the front gate. _The fedoras._ They knew she was here, they'd find her in seconds, and Christina felt panic steal through her agony as she tried to imagine what would come of her.

A rush of wind brushed her face, the ropes were slashed by an unseen hand, and Christina was falling. The fedoras arrived at the front of the house, but she hadn't hit the ground. Instead, she was seeing them from across the yard and they vanished from her line of sight as the house faded into the distance. The pain she felt racked her body and Christina watched the ground rush past as if she'd jumped onto a speeding train. There were arms around her. Cold, strong arms.

Christina moaned as the ache became too much to bear, growing stronger with the distance. Her focus wavered. The green-black grass became a blur and then the world faded to darkness.

* * *

"I had a feeling you wouldn't be there when I got out of the bath." Draco watched as she took a long drink of her martini and opted to hold the glass instead of setting it down. Her back was to him and she didn't turn. "Sara, are you crying?"

"No." Sara sipped the drink again and finally set it on the table, though her eyes clung to it. "Just thinking."

Draco picked up his unfinished drink from earlier and used a match to start the fire from a dusty box on the mantle. He expected her to say something, since smoke coming from the chimney of this particular house was a bold announcement of its occupancy, but Sara said nothing. "What are you listening to?"

"Nina Simone. My mother loved her music."

"It's nice."

"I'm surprised the record player still works." Sara lifted her drink. She still hadn't looked at him.

"What are you thinking about?"

Sara was quiet for a long moment, staring into the glass. "I'll be up in a minute."

"You said that before."

Sara finished her drink and set it on the table, empty. "I'll be up at some point, then."

It was clear that she was waiting for him to accept this and leave the room, but Draco had no such intentions. "You know, when you started coming to the manor, my father started expecting you. One night, he said he'd send you up when you arrived and do you know what I said to him?"

"You probably said I wouldn't come."

"That's exactly what I said, but he wanted to know why I felt that way. My answer was that you run away, Sara. That's what you do when it comes to me. You run away."

"I appear to be sitting in the same room with you, Draco."

"True as that may be, you're still running away. You're running away _inside._"

"I thought you were going to bed."

Draco sighed. "When will you stop being afraid of me? Do you think I don't know?"

"When will you stop thinking everything is about you?"

"I know you well enough to know that you'd much rather sleep alone tonight. I can't pretend it doesn't hurt me."

Sara turned to him and found his eyes. "I would never hurt you."

"Not intentionally."

"This has nothing to do with you personally. Draco, I've lost my husband, my home, my wealth, and here I am with you, hiding from the law in the house where my parents died, penniless, and then I learn that my most beloved friend is dying. Everything is so sudden, so hard to take! It isn't _you_ I fear. Just _change_. Change is what I fear the most. Venturing into the unknown. _Burning bridges."_ Sara left her seat and went to make herself another drink. "Want one?"

"They're vile."

"Suit yourself."

"Look, I know this can't possibly be easy for you. After all, I see Harry Potter in your eyes tonight."

"Must you mention him?"

"Have you forgotten everything in his absence? How awful he was to you? How unhappy you were? How many times have you cried on his account? Have I ever treated you with such disdain?"

"No, you haven't, but nothing is that simple. It's complicated, confusing. Just like my thoughts and my feelings."

"You don't have to marry me, Sara. I gave you a choice, not an obligation."

Sara stopped fixing her drink and looked at him. Her voice had taken on a ragged, broken quality that let him know she was trying not to cry. "When you die, it will be as my husband. End of story."

Draco went to her and took the shaker from her hand, setting it aside. "Sara, I want you to look at me."

Sara did as he asked. Her eyes were full of pain and guilt and she didn't smile.

"Do you love me?"

"You know that I do."

"And you know the same of me. All I've _ever done_ is love you. If the entire world was to die, you are the only person I'd save."

"We both know that isn't true. You were already given that choice, remember?"

Draco stood a long moment, stung. "Goodnight, Sara." He turned and left her there, wishing he could leave this place, curl up in a hole and die, alone and full of regrets.

* * *

Harry, Ron, and Seamus looked up from steaming mugs, smiled and offered a hearty hello.

Steve and Swan removed their overcoats in synch, took off their hats in the same rehearsed manner and greeted the group in return. Steve dropped his coat and hat on Swan's arm. Swan dumped all four items on top of Ron's head without so much as a glance or a thank you.

Ron pulled the coats off his head and glared at Swan. "I'm about sick of that!" He hung Steve's things on a hook and tossed Swan's on the floor.

Swan turned to Ron with a grin. "Intentional disregard for ministry property is a crime punishable by no less than thirty days in Azkaban. Pick them up or be under arrest."

Ron stood beside the discarded items, red-faced and resolute.

Harry sighed and dropped his spoon into his mug. "Just hang them up, Ron."

Seamus shook his head. "I think I'd go to Azkaban first. Ron, if you hang up that wanker's coat, I'll piss on your head."

Steve reclined in a chair he'd pulled from the X Closet and propped his feet up, opening _The Daily Prophet._ "Just hang it up, son. Are you really going to go to prison over the four feet between a coat and a hook?"

Swan grinned. "Yes Bob, hang up my coat. Ten… nine… eight…_seven…"_

Ron grinned back. "Guess Bob's in for it then. Have fun finding Bob when you arrest him." Ron took a seat behind his desk, smug.

Seamus applauded.

Harry sighed again and drew his wand. Swan's hat and coat hung themselves neatly on the hook beside Steve's.

Swan didn't miss a beat as he pulled a chair up beside his partner and grinned at Ron again. "And where's Miss Granger tonight? I was looking forward to seeing her again. It's been three long days since I've seen her last."

Ron sat up straight, incensed. "You haven't seen Hermione in at least a week!"

Swan winked. "That's what _you_ think."

Ron pulled his wand and Seamus leapt out of his seat.

Harry slammed his hand down on the desk, startling everyone. _"Enough!_ Can we get down to business? Or are we going to go 'round like this all night?"

Seamus spun on Harry. "Did you hear that git talking about Hermione like that?"

"He's just messing with Ron."

Seamus raised his voice. _"Since when_ did we Gryffindors stop defending our own?"

Steve chuckled and turned the page.

Harry dropped back into his seat. "Can we all just focus on something important for five minutes?"

Ron glared at Swan. "Yeah, and what house were _you_ in, Slytherin?"

Swan turned quiet and ignored the question.

Harry's take on the matter suddenly changed. _"Is_ there a Slytherin among us?" He drew his wand and trained it on the agents, as Ron and Seamus had already done.

Steve lowered the paper and sighed. "We _aren't_ Slytherins. I was in Ravenclaw and my fearless friend here was a Hufflepuff."

Harry stowed his wand and sat back down. Ron and Seamus followed suit, snickering.

Ron turned to Swan. "Hufflepuff, eh? No wonder you're overcompensating for an inferiority complex in the presence of Gryffindors."

Swan crossed his arms and glared. "Yeah, which one of us can laugh with _authority_ and which one of us has to hang up my coat?"

"Harry hung up your coat because you were _whining_ about it."

Seamus laughed and spoke under his breath. "Authority my arse."

Harry took a sip from his mug and decided to change the subject before the conversation went back in the wrong direction. "Can we offer you some cocoa? Seamus has a pretty good recipe."

Steve looked to Swan, Swan looked to Steve, and both gave a nod. Steve turned back to Harry. "That would be nice, thanks. It's rather cold out there tonight."

Harry looked to Seamus and gave him a nod. Seamus left the room, jittery and trying to smile. He returned only moments later and handed Harry a tray with two mugs on it. Harry stood and swallowed hard. He walked to where the agents sat and set the mugs on a two-drawer filing cabinet. He straightened up and held his breath, waiting.

Steve lowered the paper, glanced at the mugs, glanced at Harry, and set his feet on the floor. "Mr. Potter, are you quite sure you want to give agents of the Ministry of Magic this particular mug of cocoa?"

"Um… sure."

Steve took the mug and Swan looked at him as if he was crazy. Swan ignored the mugs.

"You really want me to drink this?"

"I guess so."

"Before I do, might I remind you that slipping a potion to an agent could land you in Azkaban for life."

Ron stood. "For _life?"_

Swan turned to Ron, serious. "That's right, jerk. _For life."_

Harry's palms started sweating and he curled his hands around them. He watched as Steve lifted the cup, slow, deliberate, and expectant. It touched the agent's lip and Harry panicked. "Don't!"

Steve set the cup back down with a sigh of relief. "I'm glad you came to your senses. I didn't want to arrest you, Potter."

Harry shoved his shaking hands into his pockets and dropped onto his desk.

"What's in this cocoa, if I might ask?"

Ron tangled his hands in his hair and fell back into his chair. "Harry… Don't say anything."

Harry sighed, resigned. "Veritaserum. It was all my idea, so you can leave my friends out of it."

"And why, may I ask, were you trying to slip us Veritaserum?"

Harry stood and started pacing the floor, animate and flustered. "Because we needed to know if we could trust you. There's something going on and it's big and we have a rather important job to do."

Steve raised his chin in daring. "Ask me to drink it then. Go ahead, Potter. Ask me if I will."

"Will you take Veritas? As agents of the ministry, will you submit to a test of loyalty?"

"On one condition. I'll drink your potion, but if any one wizard asks a classified question, or otherwise attempts to gain access to classified information, you will find yourselves in Azkaban before you can say _arrested._ All three of you, regardless of who speaks the offense."

Harry stopped pacing. "I'll ask the questions, and I'll accept all consequences."

Steve and Swan lifted their mugs and drank them down.

Swan counted off ten seconds on his watch, and then settled his hand in his lap. "You have three minutes."

Harry pulled up his chair and faced the agents. "I expect answers from both of you. Do you swear allegiance to the minister and the minister alone?"

"Yes."

"Yes."

"Do you follow orders from any witch or wizard other than the Minister of Magic, Julian Smidgeon?"

"No."

"No."

"If the minister's life was in danger, would you risk your very lives to keep him from harm?"

"Yes."

Harry waited for a second response, and then turned to Swan. "Your answer?"

"I would do everything in my power to protect him, but I would not die for him."

Harry nodded. "Disappointing answer, but honest enough. Would you keep my secrets, knowing that it benefited the minister's safe-keeping and well-being?"

"Yes."

"Yes."

"Do you know there is corruption in the ministry? And that there is a plot against him?"

"Yes."

"No."

Harry hesitated. "Interesting. Steve, has the minister told you that he has lost control of the ministry?"

"What the minister has told me is none of your business. Rephrase, Potter."

"Are you aware that the ministry is under Dark control?"

"Yes."

"Why doesn't Swan know?"

"He is in training, but he knows enough."

"Ok, last and final question. Of course, it's the most important question. Would you be willing to break wizarding law to protect the minister?"

"Yes."

There was a long pause as Swan considered the idea. "Yes."

"Thank you, gentleman. We will now fill you in."

Ron rose from his seat and grinned. "Hold up, mate. I've got something to ask."

"Ron, I don't think-

"Hey Swan, are you a bloody _wanker?"_

Steve clapped his hand over Swan's mouth as he was forced by the potion to answer, but Swan's words fell mute against the safety of the hand. Steve relaxed and Swan nodded his thanks to his partner.

Swan sneered at Ron. "Don't worry, what's-your-name. _Everything_ comes full circle."

Harry was stunned to silence by Dumbledore's words and he turned away to hide his anguish. He wished his mentor was right there beside him, full of advice and wisdom and willing to be the guiding light Harry remembered him to be. Harry couldn't count the number of times he'd been tempted to go to the school, or to that forbidden room in his house where a portrait of the headmaster hung, just to ask for that guidance he so coveted, but the portrait had asked him to think for himself long ago. Maybe, Harry thought. It wasn't just advice he was after anymore, but the sound of the one voice he would forever associate with undying loyalty to a cause, indiscriminate caring, and absolute fearlessness.

His thoughts were disrupted by a bustle of speed that blasted the door open and rushed inside. Harry leapt to his feet and tried to find his wand within the folds of his robe. Everyone else had already drawn theirs.

* * *

Draco held his breath, knowing she had come in and now stood beside the bed in silence. He lay there with his back to her and the covers pulled up to his chin, wanting to roll over and explain it all in a rush of words, tell her how sorry he was and how he'd had no choice, but those words all sounded like excuses, even to his own mind. It was no wonder why she held him at arm's length. It shouldn't surprise him that she hadn't forgotten, or that her trust had limits. He had always been alone in the world and the fact that nothing had changed should be no revelation. Draco expected Sara to look on him with hatred and pity for a moment, and then turn away. But she spoke instead and her soft whisper was a welcome sigh in the darkness.

"I'm sorry."

Draco said nothing.

"It was a horrible thing to say."

"I deserve no understanding from you."

Sara climbed under the covers and her warmth pressed against his back, her arm wrapped around him, and his heart ached with the pain of it all.

"Draco, the past is not the present. That was then, this is what's become of us and here we are, locked in this strange little moment in time. We're together, and that's all that matters."

"You'd rather be with Potter. I'm not blind to the fact."

"There is nowhere I'd rather be than right here. I'd have it no other way."

"Don't tell me what I want to hear. It isn't fair." Draco realized that trying to sound like he wasn't crying was beyond hope and sniffled into the covers.

"Do I mourn the loss of my marriage? Do I miss Harry? Yes, I do, but everything I've said to you is real. It's the truth and I'm here with you because I choose to be. I could leave anytime. I don't want to leave you, Draco. I _won't_ leave you."

Draco wiped his eyes and turned to face her, remembering her beauty with startling reality as he opened his eyes in the pale light of the moon, filtering in through the curtains. "Sara, do you love me?"

"You know I do."

"I mean, do you love me as someone you could spend your life with?"

"We've had this discussion. You know my answer. I'm here, aren't I?"

"Why are you so afraid of me?"

She took his hand and pulled his arm around her. "Do I feel like I'm afraid of you?"

"You're trembling."

"So are you. I'm terrified."

"Don't be. I've never loved anyone else."

Sara held his eyes for a long moment, and then pulled him close. _"Do _you love me?"

"Completely."

"Then kiss me."

He did. With all the feeling that lay unrequited inside him for so many years, Draco kissed her.

* * *

Harry stowed his wand. "Nikolae!"

"Harry! Come quickly!"

Leaving the rest of the room bewildered, Harry rushed up the stairs after Nikolae, who held something large under his overcoat. Near the top of the stairs, Harry called after him in a whisper. "Is that a person?"

Nikolae's answer was to hurry into Harry's bedroom and lay what he concealed down on the bed.

"Christina!" Harry dropped onto the bed beside her and took her trembling hand. "She's pale and cold! What's happened?"

"Tell me, Harry. Are you the one who placed the ward on Draco's other home?"

"I warded it, yes, but I don't know what's been added since I was there last."

"Ropes bound her midair. She is in great pain, from a curse it seems, though I did not think a curse was your style."

"The ropes are mine, but the curse isn't."

"It's horrible, whatever it is."

"It looks like the Cruciatus Curse."

"But how? Can it be implemented into a ward? It has been a long time since I have studied magic, and even longer since I practiced it. I have never seen anything like this."

Harry thought a moment. "Has it continued to worsen?"

"The farther I took her from the house, the more pain she was in. Yes, she was unconscious before we arrived here."

"This was meant for Draco."

"I agree."

"It was meant to kill him if he tried to flee. Someone isn't messing around, Nikolae. Be glad you didn't take her any farther than you did. Thank Merlin Draco lived so close to Diagon Alley."

"I had no choice if I was to protect her. The Aurors were closing in. My first and only concern was to get Christina to safety. I could see their plans. Their _orders._ Someone fears she knows too much. They're waiting for a reason to take her into custody."

Harry's eyes grew wide with fear. "Why?! Why would they even consider such a thing? It must have something to do with finding Draco but the minister-

"The minister knows nothing of their plans. The order did not come from him. Someone else has taken over, though I regret to say the name eluded me."

"We know he's no longer in charge. We plan to do something about it tonight."

"What do you know?"

"Only that his life is in danger. And that he hasn't been in charge for at least six months. I have evidence of neither." Harry went to the far wall and removed an old book from a shelf. "Hermione gave me this as a gift, my first semester teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. I can't tell you how handy it's been over the years. I can't be certain, but I seem to remember reading something…"

Nikolae sat beside Christina and laid a cool hand across her forehead. "She is not asleep. Her pain is great. She has slipped into a semi-conscious state. She can hear us, but will not remember our words."

Harry came to attention. "Here it is! I knew it! It's called a Boomerang Ward."

Rather harmless sounding name for a curse as Dark as this."

"It's exactly as I said. Listen to this. _The further the victim moves from the ward, the greater the pain inflicted, forcing him to return to the vicinity of the ward for relief. This renders him easy to catch because he'll never venture far on his own, will fall into coma if carried, and the use of a Portkey, floo powder, or Apparating will prove fatal. The unfortunate wizard caught in the Boomerang Ward will succumb to unimaginable suffering if he tries to escape by means of broom, usually resulting in a devastating fall. It is best to conceal oneself close to the source of the ward until help can be summoned."_

"Does it tell us how to remove it?"

"It says the best way to counter is to administer a small dose of sleeping potion before reading the counter-curse, which will allow the victim to emerge from its effects with as little trauma as possible. Also, we have to make a special healing potion to correct all the internal damage the curse inflicts. There's a recipe. It will take an hour to brew and has to be given every two hours, totaling twelve doses. That's an _entire day_ before she'll be fine again. Nikolae, what am I to do?"

"It seems you have no choice but to do what the book instructs!"

"I have a team of people waiting for me downstairs. Hermione's at the hospital with Mariah, and to tell you the truth, I don't want anyone to know Christina's here. I'll never hear the end of it. They'll curse me six ways from Sunday!"

"Is that what's important here?"

"Of course not, it's just that I wish I could take care of her and have no one find out that I've been sneaking off to see her at the same time."

Nikolae sighed and lowered his head, resigned. "You are not the person I once knew. Sara was correct in her despair. You have become a selfish man, Harry Potter."

"Perhaps, but this is for her benefit as well. It's best if no one knows about this."

"Are you going to leave this woman to suffer while you defend yourself to one who has already seen the truth in your nature? There was once a time when helping one in need would be your foremost and only concern. Your only motivation. Right now you want to help her, yes, but your foremost thoughts are of yourself."

Harry's shoulders slumped as he went for the sleeping potion, administered the recommended amount, and then fell into the chair behind his desk.

"What about the counter curse?"

"I'll do it in a moment."

"What are you doing that could take such precedence?"

Harry looked up from his parchment with a piercing glare. "Sending a letter to Hermione."

Nikolae smiled and nodded. His voice took on a gentler tone. "Very well then. I will interrupt you no more."

* * *

Harry liked any excuse to ride his broom, though his nerves kept him from enjoying this particular flight. He tried to pay attention to Seamus and Ron, who were following the agents. They were having a lively conversation about Neville's incompetence with a broom, but Harry found he'd fallen to the back of their formation and was flying alone.

Harry had plenty to be nervous about tonight. He remembered Hermione's angry glance when she saw Christina unconscious and cursed in his flat. Then there was Nikolae's disappointment in his selfish approach to Christina's plight, which weighed heavy on his heart. After all, Nikolae thought so highly of him. Mariah was still in the hospital and the surveillance mission had gone horribly wrong. It was surely a bad omen. He'd needed to replace the apt and able Mariah, who was a perfect fill-in for Hermione, with Seamus, whom everyone knew was a bungler with a wand. Top all of that off with a highly dangerous and illegal mission to kidnap the Minister of Magic. Harry had no evidence to support his claims, but had led the four wizards flying ahead of him to trust his word. It was a decision that could land all five of them in Azkaban for all eternity and it would be on _his_ head. Stir all that together in a pot and it was the perfect recipe for a nervous breakdown.

Ron glanced behind. "Come on, Harry! Steve says we're here!"

The agents went into a dive and Seamus, Ron and Harry followed, spiraling down until they landed in a quiet, dark section of garden. A grand house loomed nearby.

Steve took command, huddling everyone together, and whispering instructions. "Ok. Swan and I will go to the front door and convince Smidgeon to speak with us outside. You three will back us up if anything goes wrong, or if we need to resort to plan b."

Seamus scratched his head. "That's the surprise attack we talked about?"

Steve looked at Seamus as if he were daft. "That would be it, yes. Anyway, Potter, I want you as close to the front entrance as you can get. I suggest concealing yourself beside that shrub next to the step. You other two, stay behind those oaks." He pointed at a couple of trees in the front yard. "You're only to come out if there's trouble, but keep to those trees. They'll act as a barrier between you and the nearest curse."

Ron muttered. "Bloody hell! Another one? This isn't my day for standing under trees, you know."

"Also, if anything happens to the three of us, it will be your responsibility to get the minister to safety."

Ron and Seamus nodded in understanding.

Harry was able to see just a little as the agents were welcomed inside, and not with a friendly tone. Minutes later, shouting could be heard, muted by the door of the house, and Harry wondered if it was time for plan b, or if he should wait just a little longer. He looked to his friends, both of whom shrugged and fell back into place on either side of the walk with wands in hand.

The agents were clearly having a hard time getting someone, or more like several someones, to let them speak to the minister alone, much less outside. It was looking more and more like he would have to go knock on the door and unleash a surprise attack. He'd brought along his invisibility cloak, even though he'd never discussed using it with the agents. Their back-up plan was simple and clear, but Harry thought it might be a nice twist to show up at the door invisible. Once he was seen, they would know exactly where to look for Smidgeon, and who to blame.

Harry backtracked to the oak trees to let Seamus and Ron know what his plans were, and donned the cloak on his way.

"Ouch!"

"What is it Harry?"

"I just want you to know that I'm under the cloak and I'm going in. It doesn't seem to be going to plan, so be ready. _Ouch!_ I must have been standing on an anthill or something."

There was a loud crash from inside, drawing their attention, followed by a few more. The shouting escalated and Harry ran for the front door. Something pinched the back of his neck. He swatted at it, and then felt the zap of a fierce and heavy blast of magic. He was thrown backward, the wind was knocked out of him, and Harry hit the ground as the world went black.

* * *

261


	19. Chapter 19: The Scrying Mirror

The Girl in the Tower 2: Home By the Sea Ch 19: The Scrying Mirror

By: SpookyMulder Pt 3: The Hardest Part

**Part Three: The Hardest Part**

_**Chapter 19: The Scrying Mirror**_

_Don't put your head on my shoulder  
Sink me in a river of tears  
This could be the best place yet  
But you must overcome your fears_

In time it could have been so much more  
The time is precious I know

**From:** "Time" **By:** Culture Club

* * *

Draco hesitated beside the bed, watching her sleep, and committing the sweetest of visions to memory. The morning sun caressed her face, streaking white gold through the fan of silken hair that spilled around her, weightless on the pillow and tumbling over one shoulder. The light lay soft on her eyes, still closed in slumber, turning the lashes to fine wisps of gossamer.

Sara was a vision, the loveliest of dreams, and happiness filled him, glowing like warmth from some new and unexpected place inside him. Draco had never known such contentment, such gentle rapture, such completion and deliverance. It was a strange and overwhelming feeling, to finally get what he'd wanted all of his adult life. To experience what had always been denied, the only thing he'd ever coveted or held close to his heart. The overpowering strength of what he felt for her was frightening and wonderful. It was the only thing that mattered and Draco vowed to protect it at all costs. He stood there until the tray grew heavy, his expression most serene, remembering the most emotionally fulfilling night of his life.

Sara stirred.

"I made you breakfast."

She looked up at him, drowsy and beautiful. Everything he'd ever wanted.

"I didn't mean to wake you."

Sara gave him a sweet, sleepy smile. "Were you staring at me again, weirdo?"

Draco grinned. "Not even for a second."

"Why didn't you wake me earlier? I would have helped you with breakfast."

"I had this inexplicable need to do something nice for you. Now sit up before we're scrubbing breakfast out of the rug. This tray weighs a ton."

Sara did, pulling the covers up and tucking them securely under her arms.

He could see she was self-conscious about her state of undress and set the tray across her lap before she could reach for her nightgown. Draco went around to his side, removed his robe, and climbed back under the covers. Sara's breath stopped in her throat when she saw he was still naked. The glow within him dimmed a little, knowing she was still hesitant to cross the barrier that had forever been between them, regardless of the night they'd spent together. _Not_ sleeping. He lifted the tray and moved it sideways into the middle of the bed, where they could both prop on an elbow and pick from it. Sara relaxed, exhaling relief at being able to sink back down into the security of the sheets with a new, solid barrier between them.

Draco opened his mouth, meaning in some heartfelt moment to ask her if she still wanted Potter, if she would rather get dressed and eat in the kitchen, if she would rather forget that last night ever happened. He was saved by the owl Martin Adamo loaned them, flying in through the window. It dropped a letter on top of Sara and continued on to perch somewhere downstairs.

Draco's brow narrowed. "Is it Adamo again?"

Sara read the short note, folded it, and sighed. "Not Martin. I sent a letter to the old minister down the street. The one my parents knew. Remember? I mentioned him earlier in the week."

"Can he do it?"

"No."

"What?! I thought he was a family friend! Why would he refuse?"

"He's dead. Three years now."

"Oh. What are we to do then? This certainly complicates things."

Sara gave him a reassuring smile and reached for her tea. "We'll think of something."

* * *

Harry blinked, waited for his eyes to adjust, and found himself looking up into the concerned faces of Seamus and Ron.

"Shhh! He's waking up!"

"I can see that!"

"Alive Harry?"

"How goes it, mate? You gave us a right good scare."

"We thought you were dead!"

Harry sat up and found his glasses. "What happened? Last I remember I was running to help the agents!"

Ron dropped onto the bedside. "Well, the agents are fine but they're none too happy with you. There's a strong ward around Smidgeon's house against invisibility cloaks. They said they didn't know you were planning to use one, or they would have told you that."

Seamus took a seat on Harry's other side. "We're lucky we grabbed you when we did. The agents came flying out of the house, yelling for us to run."

Ron swallowed hard. "On top of that, um… that was no anthill you were standing on. The cloak was still full of spiders from Bellatrix's trees. They bit you more times than they bit Mariah."

"You've had the antidote, though. Last night."

"It was the ward that did you in. Stunned you for hours. The Head Mediwizard, Dr. Howard, has barely left your side. He insisted on taking care of you personally."

Harry rubbed his eyes. "Wait a minute. Seamus just said _last night._ How long have I been here?"

"It's five in the morning, Harry. Don't worry, Steve sent special word that there was to be no record of your stay here, so the ministry can't check to see who came in with injuries consistent with the ward. The Head Mediwizard is the only one who knows you're here."

"You don't even have a real room! This is an old storage closet!" Seamus grinned, thinking this news would make Harry very happy indeed.

Harry groaned. "I'm in a cupboard? I like sleeping in cupboards about as much as Ron likes standing under trees."

"Sorry about that."

Harry swung his feet over the side of the bed, groaned again, this time in pain, and went for his things.

"Where're you going?"

"Back to the office. We have to come up with another plan. If we don't get to the minister soon, it may be too late."

"But Harry, the minister's waiting for you at the office! Oh, think I forgot to mention that part. When the agents came running out of the house, Smidgeon was with them. We still have to come up with a plan but it's what to _do_ with him. He can't stay there. They'll be looking for Smidgeon and it won't be long until the ministry comes knocking."

"I already have a plan for Smidgeon, but you're right. The office isn't a safe place to be hiding anything. We need to get rid of Sylvia."

"Oh right. Why do I get the feeling she's an even bigger problem?"

Harry pulled on his trainers and grabbed the nicest of the three brooms resting against the wall. "I think I might have an idea, but there's someone I need to speak to before I'll know for sure. Come on, I need to find Snape, and fast."

* * *

Christina awoke in a strange place, in a strange bed, and wearing men's pajamas. Disorientation set in, frightening and surreal. She had no memory of arriving in this place, but one thing stood firm in her mind. This room belonged to Harry. She could smell his cologne on the pillow and was certain he'd been wearing the jumper thrown over a bedside chair the last time she'd seen him. The knowledge was comforting but, as the night came back to her, as she recalled the voice from the darkness behind the door that filled her with more questions than he answered, Christina realized Harry was a liar and that she knew little about him. Unnerved, she crept from the bed, careful not to make a sound, and took to glancing around the room.

The shutters were pulled and shut fast, denying her a glimpse of the world outside the windows. The room was mostly neat with everything in its place, save the chair piled with clothes beside the bed and a cardboard box in the corner. It was to this Christina went, glancing in at first and then daring to move a few odds and ends aside. There was a picture frame sticking up and hidden behind an old, faded, green jumper that had to be ten years old. It had been a fine garment in its better days she thought, and something he'd worn often. It was mended on the side and people who could afford such clothes didn't sew them back together. Not unless it was their favorite jumper and could not be replaced. Not even with a duplicate. Christina was careful with it as she pulled the frame from the box.

The frame was expensive as well. It was carved by hand, by an artisan if she had to guess, and looked to be mahogany. It had inlays of brass that caught the morning light, what little filtered in through the shutters anyway, and Christina admired it before turning her eyes to the note attached over the glass. The script was lovely and could only belong to an elegant woman.

_Harry, _

_I know this wasn't on the list you sent with Nikolae, but I remember you once saying that it was your favorite picture of us. I don't know if you'll want to display it and I don't expect you to, but I wanted you to have it. Let it be a reminder of better days. _

_Sara_

Careful not to disturb the piece of tape that held the note to the top of the frame, Christina lifted the single sheet and let it lay over the wood. The picture was of Harry and a woman much lovelier than the handwriting had implied. Instant recognition flashed through her mind, letting her know she had known this woman in the past, the same way she had known it of Harry that long ago day when he'd stood on the walk in the rain with a bundle of flowers and a nervous smile.

There was something else about Harry's wife that both frightened and disturbed her. The clothes she wore in the picture were eerily similar to her own newly adopted style. Sara's hair was much more beautiful than Christina could ever hope to have, but the style and color were exactly what she'd wished for that day she'd gone to the beauty parlor with a desire for drastic change that she did not understand until this very moment. Of course, her chestnut hair couldn't manage a shade of blonde even close to Sara's but it's what she'd wanted, regardless of what she'd ended up with.

There was no doubt in her mind now. Christina had known Sara, and probably known her well. How else could her subconscious be so compelled to force Sara into her mind the way it had? She hadn't actually remembered the woman in the photograph but part of her did, and that part wanted her to free the memory, no matter what means it took.

"Good Lord," she whispered. "I've been channeling this woman's essence and I didn't even know it." And then another realization came to her. "No wonder Harry looked like someone punched him when I opened the door!"

Christina took one last look at the happy couple as they stood atop a cliff on the English Channel, obviously so much in love it could not be hidden from the camera, and replaced it in the box with care. Her hand lingered on the silken jumper before she put it back where it had been and rearranged everything until the box looked undisturbed.

Footsteps sounded through the next room. There wasn't time to run back to the bed and pretend to sleep, so Christina moved to one of the shuttered windows, stood before it as though she was looking out at the street below, and waited.

* * *

Thunder clapped, loud and frightening overhead as Sara hurried through Central Park, choking back tears, wanting only to get out of sight, to find some measure of privacy, away from Draco, away from all the prying eyes of the world. There were times when affecting the weather was a welcome gift and Sara watched with gratitude as people fled the open areas of the park as dark, threatening clouds rolled across the sky, hiding the sun. The rain broke with all its fury as Sara dropped onto a bench, watching the fat, heavy drops disturb the once-calm surface of the duck pond and sending perfect, rippling rings in all directions. Sara let her head fall into her waiting hands as her grief erupted at last.

It felt good to cry. It felt right to let herself sob aloud, without restraint, without the ever-present worry of hurting Draco. This emotional breakdown was necessary for Sara but, after the night they'd spent together, seeing it would devastate him.

Sara cried as she remembered the way he'd touched her in the dark, so gentle and full of love that it was overwhelming to know there was anyone alive who could feel so deeply, so completely, and _for her._ Sleeping with Draco was everything she'd ever thought it would be, wonderful, moving, and so emotional that every thought of Harry had been chased from her mind and from her heart; leaving only the fulfillment she'd so desired all of her life. Draco deserved no less. It was exactly as it should have been, and the strength of her guilt was too heavy to bear.

As it often did, Harry's voice rose in her mind, soft and regretful, and tortured. _Remember Sara, it isn't about you._

Sara choked on her tears, trying to speak aloud. "But it's so hard, Harry! I can't do this!"

_You already have._

Knowing it wasn't really Harry, just her subconscious trying to reason with her, didn't help. The words rang true, and it killed her to know it. It was done. There was no going back, no changing her mind. She had given herself to another and her bridge to Harry was burned. Sara cried harder.

This time it was the gentle voice of her mother that drifted from her memory. _Don't cry, Sara. You've done nothing wrong. Harry left you, it's over and you need to move on._

"But he still loves me! I still love _him!"_

_It doesn't change anything._

Sara calmed and wiped her eyes. "I know, but I feel like I've betrayed him in the most personal of ways. I still had hope in my heart for us. I thought he'd come around after a while but I've ruined any chance of that. I've ruined everything!"

_He understands._

"He understands but he'll never forgive me. I'll never forgive myself!"

_Marry your friend, my dear child. Know that you complete him as no one else could. Make him happy, be with him while you still can, for if you don't you will know what it means to feel regret. _

"My heart is so torn."

_Your heart will heal. You must stop dwelling on what was or you'll drown in this sea of sorrow and so will Draco. He knows you far better than you think. He sees through all of your facades, knows what lies behind every false smile. You must find a way to be happy with him or it will all be for nothing. If this is what you plan to offer your most beloved friend, he will leave this world knowing you couldn't love him in the end. If this is the best you can do, you should have left him to die alone._

"It's not that I don't love Draco. It's that I love Harry more than anything and I feel like I've turned my back on the person who loves me most in this world."

_Think about that, Sara. Is he the person who loves you most? Don't you recall the night you sang the spell to bring the one whose love is true? Two arose from their beds that night. One sought you out, talked to you and was captivated by you. One gave up and returned to his bed._

Realization dawned in Sara's eyes. "Draco loves me more than Harry does."

_Do not turn your back on him._

"Oh Mom, why can't you be here? I need you like I've never needed you before. I miss you so much that it's killing me. I need help to get through this. I can't do it alone. I need _you!"_

_You know where to find me._

Sara did her best to dry her eyes as the rain slowed. She was soaked to the bone, freezing, and shaking with emotion. Her hair hung in wet strings that clung to her face and her dripping clothes. She rose from the bench.

* * *

"Snape! Hey Snape!"

Severus came around the couch and sneered at the green head in his fireplace. "What do _you_ want, Potter? My house is about to annihilate Gryffindor in a Quidditch match, so if you don't mind…"

"I need your help."

A victorious smirk cracked the corners of Snape's mouth as Harry narrowed his eyes. "Say that again, Potter. Hold on, one of the ministry's goons is just a few feet away. Let me get him as a witness."

Understanding that Snape was being watched, Harry made up a quick lie. "Hermione needs a sickness potion right away. I don't have any ingredients and it's really important. She can't keep anything down and she's afraid it's hurting the baby. Can you stop gloating for five minutes and come over here?"

"I suppose I could spare a few minutes for an expectant woman in need of a _simple_ sickness remedy." Snape looked up and to the right in mock consideration. "On second thought, it should probably include some Nutrium and something for anxiety. I'll need to gather a few things. Expect me in a quarter hour."

"Thanks Professor."

Harry pulled his head out of the fire and turned to Hermione, who was hovering above him.

"Harry, I think you should give Christina her potion this time."

"I still don't know how to explain all this. Nikolae shouldn't have brought her here."

"Well, you have to say something. She can't open the shutters or get out of the room. She thinks she's being held prisoner and she keeps crying when I tell her she has to stay a little longer."

Harry sighed and took the cup Hermione held out. "I'm so tired of lying. I never should have gone to see her. I should have left her alone from the start."

Hermione looked like she had a lot to say about that, but held back. "There's nothing you can do about it now."

Harry gave her a resigned nod and walked to his bedroom door. He knocked and then entered.

Christina lay in his bed with her back to the door, sniffling and holding a crumpled tissue in one curled hand. Her honey-blonde hair spilled over the pillow behind her and Harry was at once reminded of Sara, forever crying on his account.

She spoke without turning. "Please go away, miss. I want to see Harry or no one at all."

"Chris?"

Christina rolled over and sat up, wiping a quick hand across her dripping eyes. "Harry! Thank God! Get me out of here! That woman won't let me leave and I'm sick of it."

"I asked her to keep you here. Hermione's a friend of mine. She's been looking after you while I've been out. You were badly injured last night. Here, drink this."

"This stuff tastes disgusting."

"It will make you better."

"What happened to me? I went to the house where I used to live and I was talking

to someone, and that's the last thing I remember. After that I was in terrible pain and someone was carrying me, running away with me I think."

"You shouldn't have gone there. It isn't safe for you! Obviously, since you wound up here and in rather bad shape."

"Was it you who saved me?"

"No, not me. You remember the man who was watching you? The one across the way who I spoke to that night?"

"The one who was creeping me out?"

"Nikolae's a good friend of mine. He's been looking out for you for some time now. Lucky for you he's strong, quick, and sharp as glass. He brought you to safety before the men in the hats could take you away. As for the man you were talking to, it could only be one person and I want you to disregard anything he might have said to you. He's as evil as they come and I assure you he was up to no good."

"He told me more truth than you ever have! You knew about that house all along! You knew about it and you _lied!_"

"It wasn't safe for you."

"I don't care about what's safe! I care about what's real! And did it ever cross your mind that maybe I wouldn't have been so compelled to go there had you told me the truth in the first place?"

"Don't you understand? I can't tell you anything! Stop snooping around before you get yourself into more trouble than you could possibly handle!"

Christina climbed from the bed to face him properly, clothed in his over-sized pajamas, with red-rimmed eyes and her long, flowing blonde hair. Harry's mind flashed back to the night he'd found Sara wearing his pajamas and talking with Seamus, remembered her crying on the kitchen floor with broken dishes flying around the room, remembered her begging for him to stay as he'd signed the divorce papers and left her forever.

"Tell me what you know!"

Harry's anger was quick and unexpected, breaking through some barrier in his mind. It flooded him faster than any potion and he threw the nearest thing to hand against the wall above her head. _"I CAN'T!!"_

Christina stood in silent shock as the pregnant woman came running through the door at the sound of the crash and his bellowing voice.

Hermione grabbed his arm. _"Harry!_ Harry calm down!"

Harry turned to her, defeated. "I can't do this. Have someone take her home." He tried to leave the room, but Hermione stayed him.

"Harry, what's wrong with you!? Can't you understand how she feels? She can't remember _anything_ and now she's found that the only person she trusted has been lying to her."

"I know! And I hated every moment of it! I'm not a liar, Hermione, and now I've made everything worse."

Hermione hesitated as Christina watched the exchange. "You're not a liar, Harry. However, you had no choice. Once you spoke to her, there was nothing you could do except lie to her. It was best for both of you."

Christina sat on the edge of the bed and took a calmer tone. "You didn't have to lie to me about your wife. The man I spoke to last night said she ran away with Draco. You should have told me."

Harry turned his eyes to her, wounded by the mention of Sara. "I never lied about her. Everything I said was true. Sara _did_ run off with Draco, but not until after we divorced, and not for the reasons you think."

Hermione was incensed. "Who told you that?! I demand to know who told you Sara left Harry for Draco! That's a bold-faced lie!"

Harry's expression stopped her from speaking further. "It was… _the elder of the two."_

Hermione turned back to Christina, who was now confused and trying to make sense of it all. "Don't listen to a thing he told you. He's a snake, that man, and no good can come of speaking to him. He mingles truth with deceit to achieve his means. Anything he told you was pure manipulation."

"Why? Because he told me more about myself than Harry ever has? Why do I have to stay in the dark about my own past? Why will no one _help_ me?" Christina broke down again, turned her back, and cried into the tissue.

Harry's defenses fell to pieces. With a glance, Hermione nodded her understanding and left the room. Harry went to Christina's side. His arm went around her and her head found his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you everything, but I can't. If the men in the hats find out you're here, they'll arrest me. They've been watching me, you know. They know I visit you but if they find out I've told you anything at all about your past, I'll be in a lot of trouble and I can't protect you from where they'd send me."

* * *

Draco smiled when she came in the kitchen. "I got you something. I know we can't afford it, but you needed it and I bought it with the money I've made with Leon."

Sara showed him a brilliant smile and went to where he stood, putting a few groceries away. She wrapped her arms around him from behind and kissed the back of his head. "You shouldn't buy me anything. I'll make due."

Draco turned in her arms and returned the gesture. "I'd give you the world if I could."

"Cheese ball."

Draco laughed and Sara joined him.

Sara kissed him again, light and casual. "I'll make lunch. You've been stuck with the cooking an awful lot lately."

"I don't mind. I rather like having someone to cook for. Lunch won't be anything great. I took the subway into Chinatown and got us some lo mien and a couple of spring rolls. No need to cook."

"In that case, let's eat in the lounge. You bring it in and I'll get the tea."

"Wait! I didn't give you your present yet. Don't you want to know what it is?"

Sara smiled. "Of course I do but, if it's expensive, we're taking it back."

Draco went to the broom cupboard and brought out a Macy's bag on a hanger. Pulling the bag over the top, he slipped the winter coat from the hanger and helped her on with it.

"This must have cost a fortune!"

"It wasn't as much as you think. You need it anyway. It's black, my favorite color on you, and it's long and wool. This will keep you warm all season."

"We can't afford this! I was planning to get us coats from a second hand shop."

"I'll see you in hell before I see you in a second-hand coat. I went to buy you a dress for tonight but the only dresses in our price range looked like peasant stuff. I thought you needed this more. You won't be taking it back. I worked hard for this, Sara, and I want you to have it."

Sara hugged the coat around her and gave him a painful smile, knowing that he _had_ worked hard for it, harder than he'd ever worked in his life. "Thank you. I really mean that, Draco."

"I wish things could be different, Sara. I wish you didn't need such trifle things."

Sara threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "I'd have it no other way."

"I don't want you to know how it feels to be in need. I want you to be happy."

Sara pulled away. "But I _am_ happy. I'm home, I'm with you, and we're finally living our lives. You're learning to cook, I'm singing in public, and it's a blessing in disguise. For once in our lives, we have to work for what we want and it makes it all that much sweeter. We've never appreciated the simple things because we were so blinded by wealth that we didn't know how good the little things can be."

"How can you see it that way? Life has become so hard. You deserve better. We both do."

"Don't you appreciate that feeling of accomplishment when you've worked all day and you're heading home with your day's pay? Doesn't it please you to take that pay to the market and then cook our meals with your own two hands? To master something you knew nothing about? Something you thought you couldn't do?"

"I guess. I'd rather just watch my chef cook."

"Money doesn't make a person."

"But it certainly helps."

Sara laughed and went to start the tea. "You're hopeless, you know. My father always said to make the most of what you're given. This is where fate has led us. We can sit around and feel sorry for ourselves, or we can heed his advice."

"Buying you that coat made me happy. You're right, Sara. Knowing how hard I'd worked to afford it made a simple winter coat seem more important than anything I've ever given you."

"And I'll cherish it twice as much, knowing it's precious and hard-earned. Jeweled trinkets mean little when they're so easily come by. I'm glad you understand."

"Like that amethyst hair comb Weasel gave you for your seventeenth birthday? The one you were so taken by?"

"Exactly. I knew he couldn't afford something so nice. He gave his summer earnings to his brothers, so I know he spent most of what little he had left on my gift. It was a touching gesture and it was the most precious thing I was given that night. Not the best or most expensive item I received, but the one that meant the most to me."

"You wore your hair up all the time after that and you always had the comb stuck in the side. I always wondered why you wore it."

"I wore it because I wanted Ron to know how much I loved it. I still cherish that comb. I would let diamonds burn before I'd leave it behind in a fire. Just like this coat."

Draco smiled as he placed two plates and the bag of take-out on the teacart and then Sara added her items. Draco thought to himself as he pushed the cart to the lounge. Lunch had been an extravagant five dollars. The coat nearly two hundred. It left him with almost no funds remaining and he couldn't tell Sara. Either he had to find a way to make more money, or food had to start costing less. A _lot_ less.

Lunch took only a few minutes to eat and Draco gathered the dishes at once. Sara let him.

"Do you mind, Draco?"

"Not at all. Take a bath if you want. I'll get this. It's only a few things."

"Thanks. I'll be upstairs."

Sara watched Draco push the cart back to the kitchen as she climbed but it wasn't to her room that she went. Sara once again found herself outside her parents' bedroom, but this time with renewed conviction.

* * *

"What is it, Potter? Getting away from the school, even on a Saturday, is no easy task. This better not be more of your nonsense."

"I need to know if you can get to Sara and Draco and not by owl."

"Missing your wife, are you? Well, think again. I'm not telling you where they are. Not for any reason."

"I don't want you to tell me. If you're their Secret Keeper, that's fine with me."

"Why do I find that hard to believe?"

"Someone wants Draco. Dead or alive I don't know, but there are few facts you must be aware of by now. The ministry has been overthrown, quietly, and there is a sinister plot working against us. More than one, according to a trusted source. If someone wants Draco as badly as we think they do, badly enough to frame him straight to Azkaban, and they know Sara is with him, it's me they'll come after if they want to find out where they are."

"Fair enough. I may or may not know their whereabouts. The extent of my knowledge depends on whatever favor you're about to ask of me. I'm a busy man, Potter. I have a school to run. Minerva is back, yes, but she requires much more of my assistance than ever before."

Harry turned his attention to the X-closet. "Sir?"

The door was slow to open and then a gaunt, thin face peered around it before the rest of the man stepped into the room. When he spoke, his voice was drawn and tired. "Morning, Severus."

Snape looked at the man with an expression of absolute shock for a long moment before turning back to Harry. "I should have known it was you! It's _always_ you!"

"I can explain."

"The agents at the castle have been talking about it all morning! The Minister of Magic - _kidnapped!"_

"Professor-"

"And here he is, _in your office!_ You've done it this time, Potter. It's finally to Azkaban with you. They're looking everywhere for him. The search has been on for hours already and it's only a matter of time before they find him here. I think I'll be going now, before I'm implicated in your insane little scheme."

"His life is in danger. He hasn't been in control of the ministry for months and his usefulness was coming to its end." Harry took a deep, steadying breath. "Snape – _Professor_ - they were going to kill him."

Smidgeon dropped into Ron's chair. "It's true, Severus. Every word of it."

Snape turned back to Harry. "What do I have to do with any of this?"

"If they find him, they'll kill him. You have to get him out of here. You have to take him to Sara."

"And what do I get out of this? A stretch in Azkaban? I've already helped Draco and now this. Why should I risk myself for Julian Smidgeon? Why should I risk myself for you? What would you do for me, Potter?"

"I'll give you Sylvia."

Snape was struck dumb and dropped into the nearest chair, heavy and without grace. "If you've harmed a single hair on her head, Potter, I swear I'll—"

"She's fine. She hasn't tried to hurt anyone and so no one has tried to hurt her, either. We've questioned her of course, but she refuses to talk. I was told by a seer that Sylvia is cursed and that she can't speak a word against our enemies or she'll die. I felt she was telling the truth and it seems I was right."

"Why give her to me when you know she was rescued last time?"

"Because she's worthless to us if she can't pass information and I really don't want a Death Eater locked up in the basement when they come searching for the minister. We have to get her out of here and something told me she was best left in your hands, regardless of how inept you were last time."

"Fine then. It's a deal but getting to Sara will take some doing. I don't dare apparate and a broom is unthinkable." Snape's eyes snapped to the minister. "Julian, can you get me into Malfoy Manor?"

"No but, if we can borrow Harry's invisibility cloak, I can get us into the Ministry of Magic. I assume it's a Portkey you're after?"

Snape smiled and turned his eyes to Harry. "I'll be back to collect Sylvia in a few hours. Is there anything you wanted to pass along?"

Harry reached into his pocket and withdrew the Muggle pounds he'd gotten at Gringotts. Sara could easily exchange them for American dollars at any Muggle bank. Much easier and less risky than Galleons. "Give her this. It isn't much but I didn't want to draw attention. Tell her I'll send more when I can. And… tell her I—"

Snape sneered and raised his voice. "I _will not_ relay any _personal_ messages."

Harry went to his desk, ripped a small piece of parchment, and drew two

intertwined hearts on the paper. Sara would remember the mirror in the cottage. She would know what it meant. Harry folded the paper and gave it to Smidgeon. "If you don't mind, sir. Give this to Sara?"

"I owe you my life, Harry. It's the least I could do."

Harry smiled his gratitude. "Good luck, Minister."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. Good luck to you as well. I hope to be seeing you again soon."

* * *

Draco set the needle on the old record and listened to the crackle – such an unfamiliar sound – as it began to play. Never in his life had he cared for this type of music but there was something about Nina Simone that stirred his darkened soul. He loved her heavy African voice, the soft, jazz-influenced melodies and the way it all came together with such emotional perfection. It was beyond description. It reminded him of Sara, of the long ago night he'd watched her from the shadows of the Great Hall, playing piano alone in the glow of a single candle. Listening to Nina Simone was like listening to Sara. Haunting, moving and _rapturous_.

Draco lit the fire with the matches they kept on the mantle. Sara had brought these home from one of her trips around the city with Charles, and Draco wondered how she'd come by them. They were from a pub, though New Yorkers didn't call drinking establishments pubs. As it said on the book cover, _Sully's East Side Bar and Grill_. He hoped she hadn't been drinking. Not only did her recent drinking bother him, but also they couldn't afford it. If either of them were to drink, it would have to be done at home. He couldn't tell her what to do with the money she earned, so Draco resigned to hope she would do what was best for them both.

Sara watched him, unnoticed, from the doorway. "Draco."

Draco spun around, startled. "Sara! Stop sneaking up on me, it's creepy." He expected her usual smile and maybe a smart, sarcastic response, but he received neither.

Sara took a deep breath and removed the robe she wore.

Draco was dumbfounded. His mouth opened and closed more than once but, in the end, he couldn't find the words.

Sara's breath hitched as she stood in the shimmering ice blue dress. "She told me it was okay. It was only in my own mind, but she said I should go in." Tears filled her eyes and spilled over her ashen face. "Draco, please tell me I haven't done something horrible!" Sara closed her eyes and tried to control the flood of emotion.

There was no doubt in him now. Sara had not only entered her parents' bedroom, but the dress she wore was her mother's. She was confused and in need of reassurance. Draco knew that walking into that room had probably been harder for her than agreeing to marry him. Harder than her divorce. Harder than running away when she was seventeen, and harder than coming home. In fact, it was probably the most personal, most difficult thing she had ever done. He felt for her but, even more than that, he admired her strength.

"You did the right thing."

Sara smiled through her tears. "She said I could find her there."

"And she was right. You found her, didn't you?" Draco stroked her hair as she laid her head on his shoulder. "There were times when I missed my father. Hard to believe, I know, but he was _my father_ after all and the only father I'd ever known. All those nights you spent in the tower after your parents died, living in fear and solitude, feeling detached, inconsolable and so alone the word holds no meaning when spoken aloud. I know how dark that feeling can be. I felt lost in those days. Like nothing in my life could ever be good again and all I wanted was to have him near me. To talk to him. Just to be in his presence. I lived my life with an aching void, a dark place somewhere deep in my chest that I thought would never go away."

"It never does. I know the void you speak of and it remains no matter how many years pass. No matter how hard you try to move on."

"Not exactly true. It remains, yes, but it does heal. I think it has everything to do with _how_ you chose to move on. And how you chose to remember."

"I'm not sure what you mean. I've done my best in those regards. Nothing has helped."

"You've done well, but tonight was the first real step that mattered. Sara, the way to heal is to bring light to that dark place." Draco led her to the fire and sat with her before it. "For me, it meant talking to his rather miserable and calculating portrait, carrying his cane and wearing his clothes. I felt close to him when I did those things, as painful as it was to do them. What really allowed me to move on was letting go of my hatred for him. For you, it means letting go of the way they died. Hold onto the sense of loss, but leave the anger behind. Keep them close to you in spirit and you'll never feel alone. Take something from both of them and wear it everyday so they will always be with you. Wear these exquisite dresses and bring your mother to life when you sing. Think of them in everything you do. Make them smile, make them proud, but never make them grieve for you."

At last, Sara raised her chin and smiled. "I love you, Draco Malfoy."

He was sure she expected a bit of sarcastic humor but Draco only smiled and held her eyes. Sharing these things with Sara had been painful, but the understanding he saw in her, and the relief it brought, made every word worthwhile. He put his arms around her and held her close. "Now go upstairs and hang that dress up for later. I'll start dinner and then-"

Both heads spun at the sound of the doorbell.

Draco drew his wand. "I swear! That intolerable git just doesn't get it. It's time I taught him a lesson!"

Sara leapt to her feet and grabbed his arm. "No! In the closet like last time. Something tells me it isn't Martin."

* * *

Harry smiled as he passed through the cluttered room and into the clean one, which no longer smelled of lemon oil. Today it reeked of sandalwood and jasmine. Hawthorn busied herself over a basin, though Harry couldn't see what she held.

"Hello Hawthorn. What exactly are you doing?"

"What exactly does it look like? I'm bathing this scrying mirror in a mugwort tea."

"Why are you doing that?"

"Don't you know _anything?_ It's part of the ritual. How do you expect me to sell this if the ritual hasn't been performed? Anyone who tried to divine anything from it would think me a fraud and I'm not in the habit of taking returns."

"So it actually works? You see things in it, like a crystal ball?"

"It's similar. Now what do you want, Potter?"

"You tell me. You're the one holding the scrying mirror."

"Yeah, but I'm passing it through incense smoke, not _gazing into it_ you moron. Now shut up. You're distracting me."

Harry took a seat at her table and watched as she performed the ritual until he was struck by a question. "Why's it black if it's a mirror?"

"Are you deaf? I said BE QUIET!"

"Sorry."

"I'll have to test this when I'm done. It's probably useless by now, all thanks to you."

Harry breathed in the wafting smoke, heavy with scent, and nearly choked as it burned his throat. He coughed loud and hard and then did his best to sit quietly in his seat.

Hawthorn gingerly laid the mirror on a piece of cloth and turned her sharp stare on him. "You're impossible, Potter. I give up! If you aren't running your mouth, it's something else."

"Is your scrying mirror finished?"

"What you _should_ be asking is; is my scrying mirror worthless? Here's your answer. _Probably."_

"But you did a really good job decorating the edges. I must have taken a long time."

"Most of a week, and now it's probably all for nothing."

Guilt crept over him for disrupting her concentration and possibly ruining her creation. He also thought she was so focused on it and so distracted by it that she would be of little or no help to him. "How much does an item like that cost?"

"Ten Galleons. They're worth twenty, but I sell very few if I try to charge full price. I still make a decent profit."

"Could I buy it? I'm no Diviner, but it's interesting. I think it would look perfect in my office."

"I'll take eight for it since it may or may not work."

"I'll give you ten, since it's my own fault if it doesn't."

"Congratulations Potter. You're the proud owner of a questionable and possibly defective scrying mirror. Now what are you doing here?"

"Have you seen anything? You know, visions or whatever?"

"Didn't I tell you that I'd let you know if I did? Imagine that. Blind _and_ deaf. It's a wonder you can speak."

Harry laughed. "Hey! I may be deaf and blind, but you can leave the 'dumb' part out of it!"

"You have an awful lot of stupid questions for a smart person."

Harry chuckled at the sharp sarcasm and abrasive personality he'd once known well. "Your last name wouldn't happen to be Malfoy, would it?"

She'd cursed him and put her wand away before Harry could so much as blink. Something felt odd, and his hand was quick to find his new thick, bushy mustache. He slumped in his seat, feeling ridiculous and she howled with laughter. Harry flicked his fingers at her and then took his turn laughing at Hawthorn's new beard.

Harry didn't think he'd ever seen Hawthorn smile, but she did now and winked at him.

"Take it off and I'll take off mine."

Harry turned sheepish and shy, blushed, and removed the beard. Likewise, his mustache disappeared.

Hawthorn took the seat across from him and looked at him with serious eyes over the basin of mugwort tea. "I've stopped having dreams about the minister and I'll assume that has something to do with today's headlines."

"It might."

"Good job, Potter. He isn't out of the woods just yet. I can't explain. It's just a feeling I have. Also, the other visions I described to you have gotten stronger and more frequent. The events they foretell are imminent. Diagon Alley will burn and it will happen soon."

"I don't know what else I should be doing! We can't get to our books, we can't capture Bellatrix and we have nothing more than theories as to what they're doing with the fog vials. If I mention the words Aquadrite and Noctris does it change anything for you?"

"Do I look like _Sherlock_ bloody _Holmes_, jackass? You're the Private Auror, Potter. You have to figure all these things out for yourself. I've told you everything that I can. Just make sure the pregnant girl has that cloak. Make _sure_ of it!"

"She has it."

"I want you to know I've been meditating on the vision I had and I'm no closer to helping you with the identity of the dead woman. I'm sorry, Potter. Whoever she is, it will be a great loss. That's all I can say." Hawthorn lifted a bottle of vodka and refilled her glass. She took a long drink with a shaky hand. "You have another question."

"The woman in my basement, the Death Eater. I'm sending her to a questionable wizard for safekeeping. I have little choice at this point but I was hoping you might be able to tell me how you feel about it."

"Get her out of there. Where you send her is irrelevant now. Her part has already been played."

Harry left twelve Galleons on the table, took his scrying mirror and walked to the doorway. "Thank you. And, Hawthorn, stop drinking. I know you said it blocks the visions but right now, I say let them come. Let them come for all our sakes."

* * *

Sara rushed to where Draco hid in the closet and called to him in a frantic whisper. "It's the Minister of Magic! Right here at our door!"

What little color he possessed drained from Draco's face. "He's here to arrest me!"

"Don't jump to conclusions. We don't know if they've found us or if they're just checking places we could be." Sara's expression changed as realization dawned in her eyes. "We could be surrounded by Aurors for all we know!"

The bell rang again, followed by an insistent knock.

Sara panicked and pulled at the closet door. "Let me in!"

A low voice called through from outside. "Sara! Open this door at once!"

Sara hesitated as she crammed Draco farther into the closet. "Was that-"

"Snape, yes. He's betrayed us to the minister!"

"Never! Severus wouldn't give us up, not even under the threat of death."

"But he's with the minister!"

"Something isn't right. I think I should answer the door. Stay in here and I'll say you're at the store if it's trouble. You never know, he could be here to give you pardon."

Draco's outlook brightened and he pulled closed the closet door.

Sara was nervous, walking through the foyer on shaky legs of rubber. Her heart pounded in her chest, thudding loud in her ears. Many thoughts ran through her head and she began rethinking her decision by the time she'd made it halfway across the foyer. What if they'd forced Severus to lead them here? What if he'd been slipped Veritaserum? What if his authoritative manner was meant to warn her into silence?

Sara stopped with her eyes fixed on the door. She took a deep, calming breath and waited.

The banging came again, followed by the sound of his voice, calling to her once again through the heavy wood.

Sara closed her eyes and pushed her thoughts at him. _I see the minister with you. I'm here, but I don't know what to do. If it's safe, then give two quick knocks. If it isn't, give three._

Snape rapped twice on the door and then fell silent.

Sara ran the last few steps, threw back the locks, and pulled him into a tight hug. "Severus! I haven't seen you in so long!"

"How are you, my dear? How is Draco?"

"We're both fine. We're managing. Draco even got a job!"

"I'm glad to hear it. I've been worried about the two of you."

Sara glanced at the minister. "You've brought Minister Smidgeon? Does this mean we can go home now? Thank Merlin because I didn't know how we were going to make it through the winter."

Smidgeon shut the door, locked it, and then turned to address Sara. "I'm sorry, but we won't be going anywhere. I've been sent to you by your husband for safekeeping. He and his friends, along with two of my few remaining loyal agents, saved me from a perilous situation."

Sara was dumbfounded. "But… but you're the Minister of Magic! You could just order the offenders detained!"

"Mrs. Potter-"

"Miss Lemke. Harry and I divorced, sir."

"Sorry to hear it. Truly I am."

"Thank you. We're still friends. As you were about to say?"

"The Ministry of Magic has fallen to Dark control. There a precious few left who would follow my direction, and if they did, they wouldn't for long."

Sara sighed. Her shoulders slumped. "You're welcome to stay as long as needs be. We don't have much. We both have to work long hours for low pay in order to keep food on the table and now we'll all need winter clothes. However, there's a solid roof over our heads. This house is a safe place."

Draco let himself out of the closet. "Hello, Minister. Welcome to real life. It's a hell of an adjustment, but Sara will make you appreciate it whether you want to or not. I hope you can cook."

"I can reheat lamb pie with my wand."

"No wands here. We can't have anyone picking up magic in this house. Sara says it's closely monitored."

The minister bowed his head with relief and gratitude. "Thank you for taking me in. I'll do whatever I can to help."

Sara smiled. "I already have your first duty in mind, if you'll agree, of course." Sara stepped forward and whispered to Snape whose smile was so wide and so brilliant that Sara though he might injure himself. She grinned and then laughed as she looked at him. "Minister, I have a favor to ask."

* * *

274


	20. Chapter 20: Red Twilight

The Girl in the Tower 2: Home By the Sea Ch 20: Red Twilight

By: SpookyMulder Pt 3: The Hardest Part

**Part Three: The Hardest Part**

_**Chapter 20: Red Twilight**_

Dusty words lying under carpets  
Seldom heard, well, must you keep your secrets  
Locked inside, hidden safe from view  
Is it all that hard?  
Is it all that tough?  
I've shown you all my cards now isn't that enough?  
You can hide your hurt but there's something you can do

You can talk to me

**From:** "Talk to Me" **By:** Stevie Nicks

* * *

Christina dropped onto Harry's couch. "I just don't understand why you felt you had to lie to me."

"I told you why."

"No, you told me why you couldn't tell me anything. Inability to divulge information does not justify weeks and weeks of blatant, elaborate lies. You should have simply said that you couldn't tell me right from the start. I could have respected that. I can't respect this."

"What did you want me to do? You were desperate for answers. You did nothing but ask me questions about your past. Like you would have just nodded and accepted the fact, knowing that I knew everything about you? You'd have begged me for answers. I didn't want to be driven away."

"If I knew you'd be arrested I think I could have restrained myself."

"It was easier to say that we'd just met. You must understand the position I was in."

"I understand it, yes, but my understanding doesn't make it acceptable to me. I mean, Harry, you said we'd been dating!"

"I wasn't lying when I said that I'd kissed you. And I did take you out a couple of times right before your accident. I came to your house a few times as well. The first time because you were upset and you'd sent me a message. You needed a friend and just wanted to talk. The next day I took you to lunch and you told me that you hated merlot. Later we went sightseeing. After that, we went back to your house, had a few drinks and you taught me some swing dancing until I fell over and that's when I kissed you."

"I know how to swing dance?"

"You said you had to learn a few moves for a play you were in. Anyway, I liked you. We'd been friends for seven years but I'd never thought of you that way before. Of course, we met a few days before I married Sara and you were with Draco so it was inappropriate and never even crossed my mind until our relationships were falling apart."

"What happened with her? I know it's a personal question and you don't have to answer but I guess I would feel like I knew you a little better if you shared that with me. You didn't tell me much the first time we discussed it."

Harry sighed and sat beside her on the couch. "It's hard to talk about Sara."

"You don't have to. I shouldn't have asked."

"No. I owe you this much."

"Whatever you're comfortable sharing is fine."

"Sara's a wonderful person. Let me make that plain right from the start. None of it was her fault, really. She'd done nothing wrong. It was all me. Me being selfish, me needing space, me being angry at the world. It started three years ago, give or take.

"I was bored for lack of a better word. We had so much money that we didn't need to work, which made me feel useless. I thought of working in my field of training but they were actually downsizing due to a lack of crime. I was offered a spot on an obscure sports team years ago and tried to take them up on it but they had all the players they required. I realized I was no longer important, no longer needed and it was a hard thing to swallow.

"I fell into a real slump after that. I was depressed and it grew deeper and deeper with each passing day. I found new reasons to despair. I watched Sara keep herself busy, even if it was tending a garden, decorating the house, or shopping. She found ways to enjoy her days, helping friends, doing volunteer work and whatnot. She always offered to take me along but I always refused. At first, I envied her happiness but, as time wore on, I began to resent her contentment. By then, I had begun to climb into a dark, miserable shell.

"Sara worried about me. She often wanted to talk but I would get angry and walk away, all the while telling myself that she didn't care, that her sympathy was out of pity for such a worthless burden as me. I took my misery out on her but she refused to fight with me. She would quietly leave the room and I knew she was crying somewhere behind a locked door. Later she would return and ask me to let her help with my troubles. It was hard to wallow in misery with such a caring person around, so I took to avoiding her.

"It doesn't take a genius to know that Sara stopped enjoying life. She became focused completely on me, trying to understand what went wrong and attempting to make me happy. It breaks my heart to think of the way she tried to hide her devastation. She always tried to smile for my benefit as she wrung her hands, never knowing how I would receive her. She was always so gentle in words and manner when she should have been throwing things at me and walking out the door. Her patience fueled my dejection. Every time I realized what I was doing to her, I felt so wretched and hopeless that I started trying to sabotage my own life in earnest. I became cruel and utterly detached. I pushed her away but she wouldn't leave. Her dedication confused me and there were times when I clung to her, only to become twice as intolerable later.

"No matter what I did, no matter how horrible I was, Sara refused to give up on me.

"After three long years of mistreatment and neglect, Sara learned I was seeing someone else and mistakenly attributed all of my odd behavior to that. She had turned to her best friend, Draco, for moral support. She needed someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on, and he'd been in love with her for so long that I thought the worst when I found out about it. Sara didn't leave me when she thought me unfaithful, but I left her when I thought the same of her. We were both wrong, of course, but leaving was my biggest mistake. Sara filed for divorce.

"Only as I sat in this very spot, holding the papers in my hands did I realize how foolish I'd been. I tried to reconcile. I begged her to take me back, but I'd pushed her too far. I'd done something unforgivable in her eyes and she was right. Sara had been there for me through the best and the worst of times. She'd done her best as my wife and my friend and I'd abandoned her. However, when she learned that I'd been faithful to our marriage, she retracted the divorce and wanted to work it out. I signed the papers, sent them off, and left her crying on the floor of our kitchen."

"What!? Harry, you _couldn't_ have! Why would you turn your back on this woman after all she'd done for you? My god, I mean, you'll never find that level of commitment again as long as you live! Not from me, not from anyone! Harry, you're a _fool!"_

"I know what I am."

"Why did you do it? Why sign the papers after everything you've told me?"

"Because I was faced with every hurt I'd ever caused her, forced to see the product of my discontent and I couldn't bear it. I couldn't hurt Sara anymore. I loved her too much to make her suffer. Freeing Sara from her promise was my greatest act of kindness."

"Hell of a reward for unconditional love. I'm quite sure the act of kindness she had in mind involved a caring husband, not a selfish quitter."

"You're right, of course. Call me all the names you want and you'd be right. My relationship with Sara was broken, but I don't believe it was beyond repair."

"Then call her!"

"It's too late."

"How do you figure?"

Harry looked at her with something dark and broken hiding behind his eyes. "Because she's marrying Draco. Sara came to me for advice and I told her she had no choice."

"WHAT!"

"I can't and won't elaborate. End of story."

"But-"

"You wanted to know what happened. Now you know. The condensed version, anyway. Yes, I'm a terrible person. Yes, I lied to you because I wanted to see you. Hate me if you must. Excuse me."

Harry left her there without so much as a glance, passed through the door, hurried down the stairs, crossed the office, and disappeared into Diagon Alley.

* * *

Draco lit the fire in the dining room, even though the evening was warm for October and the air in the house was comfortable. The room seemed to be missing something without the warm glow of the flames and amber shadows dancing on the walls. It gave one something to focus on, as the yellow-orange flicker in the hearth calmed and soothed all that was troubled.

Snape sank into a chair and sighed with a drink in his hand, mixed by Sara from her parents' liquor cabinet. "That's better, Draco."

The minister agreed as he came to sit beside Draco on the couch. "Indeed, the very thing to ease my weary mind."

Sara stood off to the side, resting her drink on one of the room's two pub tables, watching the ice cubes tumble as she stirred it, an old habit that meant she was lost in thought. Draco watched her, wondering what was on her mind. Was it the dress she still wore? The fact that she'd gone in her parents' room? Was it the night they'd spent together, the demise of the ministry, the recent talk of heroic Harry Potter? Was she feeling guilty over the expense of the coat he'd given her? Was she nervous about singing at the dinner club? It could be any or all of these things. Maybe even something else.

For all her sincerity, Sara was a master of secrets.

Snape followed Draco's gaze and saw that Sara was troubled, removed from the gathering and sullen. He went to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Sara, forgive me for asking, but wherever did you get that dress and why exactly are you wearing it?"

Sara glanced down at the beautiful ice blue dress she wore and grew uncomfortable. "Oh, this? I just wanted to see if it still fit. You knocked on the door before I had a chance to change."

Draco wasn't about to let her get away with lying to Snape, who would be thrilled to know the truth. "She needed to see if it would fit because--"

"Draco!"

"—she'll be singing over in Harlem tonight with a proper jazz band. I can't wait to see it."

Snape's attention shot back to Sara. "That's fantastic! Why did you not tell me?"

"It's nothing, really. I'm only singing one or two songs with them. I won't be on five minutes total, so I didn't see the point in making a big deal out of it."

Snape kissed her cheek and smiled with the affection he seemed to have for her alone. "I wish I could go. I'd love to see you perform in a city such as this."

Sara's discomfort seemed to be spiraling out of control. "You're welcome to come." She was now stirring her drink into a maelstrom. "But it's okay if you can't. Like I said, it's no big deal."

"_No big deal?_ I beg to differ, but I'm well acquainted with how impossible you can be. Sara, it would please me to end to see your performance tonight, no matter how short it will be. Unfortunately, I've stayed too long already. I have prior commitments which require urgent attention but I can honestly say; I wish that I didn't."

Smidgeon sighed and dragged his eyes from the fire. "It's true, miss. I was there when he promised _your Harry_ that he'd be no more than an hour and it's of the greatest importance."

Sara's expression changed and her drink came to a sudden stop. "Harry's been waiting for you all this time? In that case, you'd best be off. You have a Portkey now. You can come next time, if they ask me back."

Snape set his drink aside and looked to her, not wanting to leave so soon.

"Severus, don't keep Harry waiting."

Smidgeon again fingered the little slip of paper he carried in his pocket, glanced at Draco, whose jealous eyes watched Sara, and left it alone. This was not the time. He would wait until Sara was alone before passing it along.

Snape wrapped her in a pained embrace. "Be careful, my dear. I will return as soon as possible. I'll bring what supplies I can."

"We'll make do and I won't have you become suspect. They're watching you as it is. I miss you, Severus. Don't stay away too long, but you can't make this a habit. Someone will catch on. Draco can't afford to have you in prison."

"I miss you as well. No one's invited me for Sunday tea in weeks. I even miss your horrible orange scones." He pulled away and tried to smile. "I'd eat a whole plate of them if you put them in front of me."

Tears stood in Sara's eyes as she hugged him again. "Please come back, Severus. I can't stand not seeing you." Sara wiped her eyes and stepped away. "I'd give anything just to sit and argue with you." She gave him a watery smile. "Now say goodbye to Draco. He misses you, too."

Snape gave a solemn nod and turned to Draco. "See me out, would you? I'd like a quick word."

Draco stood. "Of course."

Snape shook the minister's hand. "Good luck, Julian. Hopefully this will all be over soon. Until then, I leave you in the capable hands of my most trusted students."

Smidgeon smiled. "They're pushing thirty, Severus. I think you should exchange the term 'students' for 'friends.'"

"But they're ever so much more to me than that. Goodbye, Minister. I'll send word."

Snape led Draco out of the room and into the foyer.

Draco stopped and stood stock-still. He clasped his hands easy in front. "Yes, Professor?"

"Congratulations are in order."

Draco smiled. "Yes, I suppose they are."

"I told you never to give up hope. You didn't. And you persevered."

"It would be a much sweeter victory if Sara's affection wasn't in response to my illness but, whatever it is, I'll take it."

"You'd be a fool not to. Sara will see things differently in time. For her, it was crossing the line that was the hard part. How are you with medicine?"

"I've enough for another week. Thank you, sir. I was never able to thank you."

"Draco, there are few things in this world I wouldn't do for you. Making a potion is hardly worth such gratitude. Your recent accomplishment is all the thanks I need. You have no idea how happy you've made me, but I only wanted it because I knew it was the only thing in this lost and miserable world that would ever make you happy."

Snape hugged his favorite student.

Draco hugged him back.

* * *

"Are you all right, Minister? Can I get you anything?"

"I'm fine, miss. There is something I wanted to give you."

Draco came into the room, smiling, quiet, and returned to his place on the couch. Smidgeon pulled his hand from his pocket and let it rest on the seat, empty. He gave Sara a minute shake of his head, warning her not to mention it.

Sara took Snape's glass and placed it on a tray with her own to be washed. "I hope Severus gets there in time. Harry said a couple of weeks ago that he and Ron were going to see Dead Nexus play tonight at Slytherin Spirits."

Smidgeon looked up. "Now why does that seem so familiar? I recall someone saying something about that back at the ministry. Hmph. My memory for details is quite a frustrating thing."

Draco looked confused. "Why would people at the ministry be talking about a bad U2 cover band playing at a pub in Diagon Alley?"

"I wish I could tell you, my boy, but my memory has deserted me at the present time. It will come to me. Usually when it's no longer relevant."

Draco placed his own drink on the tray and took it from Sara. "I'll take these and get dinner started."

Smidgeon stood. "I'll wash them while you cook, son."

"The only person who's ever called me _son_ was an evil, overbearing tyrant who thought I was life's greatest disappointment. You'd do well to call me by another name. Draco will do."

"Draco then. I don't know how to cook, especially with Muggle means, but I'll help in any way I can."

Draco looked to Sara.

"I should start getting ready. It's sure to take forever."

"We'll call you down when it's ready."

Smidgeon fingered the slip of parchment in his pocket as Draco hugged Sara, kissed her cheek and told her not to be nervous.

Harry's note would have to wait a little longer.

* * *

Dragging his feet into Mystic's Café, Harry was thankful for the after-dinner lull and sank into a comfortable booth away from the windows. His elbow propped on the table and Harry let his head fall into his hand, troubled.

Christina had been a mistake. He'd entertained the thought once or twice, but he really saw it now. It wasn't that she wasn't right for him, or that she wasn't worth his time because she was both of those things.

The mistake was all his.

She would never understand why he'd lied and he could never justify it without telling her everything he'd tried so hard to conceal. How could she ever understand altruistic betrayal? A contradiction in terms, yes, but that's exactly what it was.

And there she'd sat tonight in his flat, a clueless Muggle in the middle of a wizarding market, surrounded by some of Hogwarts' finest students of magic, with her Sara hair and her Sara clothes, asking him why he'd lied to her.

Talking about Sara the way he had - so honestly, and in terms so black and white - had been difficult. _Too_ difficult, actually. Christina had reminded him of Sara so often since she'd come to his flat that he'd lost his temper – or his patience – more than once and it wasn't healthy. His reactions weren't fair to Christina, but how else was he to act when she actually _looked_ like Sara? How could he even tell her that she did? How was he to act when her very appearance triggered his deepest emotions, his most beloved – and most painful – memories and tore open the greatest wounds inside him?

It was all too much.

Harry stepped back with his mind's eye and looked at his situation with what he assumed would be Hermione's point of view. What would she consider the wisest course of action? Staying away from Christina, of course. One didn't need to be the best student at Hogwarts to see this clearly. It was straight common sense. He and Christina posed such complications to each other's lives that total avoidance was the only realistic option – until the ministry was figured into the equation. Christina possessed neither the wisdom nor the skill to protect and defend herself from the agents who shadowed her.

"Why is it." Mystic set a cup of tea before him and took the seat across. "That every time you find your way in here you look as though you world is in ruins?"

"It's perpetually in ruins. How come every time I see _you,_ your hair is a different color? Didn't it used to be black? After it was blonde, that is."

"It's just a few red streaks, but don't get used to it. I'll change it again soon enough. Are you all right, Harry?"

Harry lowered his eyes and slowly shook his head.

Mystic sighed and patted his hand. "I'm sorry about you and Sara. Lisa was over here smirking about it a few weeks ago and I damn near tossed her out. She didn't have anything nice to say about Sara and she thought you had an attention disorder or some nonsense."

"Who's Lisa?"

"LisaRene. She owns the bookstore next to Sara's shop? I don't know if any of the other girls in our section warned you about Lisa but watch your back around that one. She'll be as nice as pie to your face but she's a snake the second your back's turned. She doesn't have a nice word to say about anyone who isn't just like her. If she thinks red is best and you like blue, then you're in the wrong in her eyes."

"I've known a few people like that. I grew up in a family full of them, actually."

"Well, all I meant to say is that the rest of us like you both just fine and we were all sorry to hear."

"Thank you. Sara and I are still friends." Harry let his arm slip from the table and come to rest in his lap. "Mystic? Would you be willing to give me your honest opinion on something?"

"Honest is the only opinion I'm willing to give."

She smiled and so did he.

"What do you think of Hawthorn?"

"Well, she can be a bit abrasive, I guess, but she wasn't like that before her fiancé died."

"She was engaged to be married? What happened? How did he die?"

"It's a horrible story but a rather short one. You probably know that people have always chided her for hearing voices and seeing visions."

"_Chided?_ From what I've seen, some people are downright hostile. Others humor her but one thing is universal and that is the fact that everyone discredits her."

"Not everyone. Hawthorn came in here late one night a few years ago and told me not to go to work if I burned toast while wearing a red jumper. One morning, as I tossed some charred bread in the trash, I realized that I was wearing a red jumper and that this was the day of which she spoke. I considered staying home but thought it a coincidence and came in anyway."

"Did anything happen?"

"Just before closing that night, we were robbed by two men in white masks. The cook and I dueled with them – they turned out to be Death Eaters – because there was no way I was handing over the day's take to a couple of thugs who hadn't earned a single Knut of it. The way I saw it, I have a wand, too, and I know how to use it."

"Then why would she tell you to stay home that day? You foiled the robbery, so it's good that you were there, right?"

"Not quite. One of them put a Choking Curse on me. Arlen, my cook, didn't know how to reverse it and I woke up in St. Mungo's two weeks later. I'd gone into a coma and almost died.

"Another time Hawthorn told Slyth to watch for a man with a missing a tooth and to send him away. Slyth rolled her eyes and put it right out of her mind. That night, a man with a missing tooth started a rather ugly brawl in her pub and they shut her down for a few days. She was struggling to stay open back then and she lost all kinds of money.

"As you can well imagine, most of us who know her believe Hawthorn to be authentic. She has a few regular customers and sells Divination supplies by owl order to get by, but you're right. Those who know her only by reputation discredit her as some sort of loony."

"Tell me what happened to her fiancé."

Mystic sighed. "He and Hawthorn met at school. They were inseparable and were together for years before she started talking about the voices. The whole school laughed at her and called her Sybil, after Trelawney and some crazy girl from a Muggle book. The Gryffindors and the Hufflepuffs were much kinder than the others were, but the Slytherins were brutal. The more they laughed at her, the harder she tried to prove herself a true seer. She would make predictions all the time and would tell them to anyone she passed but, even when they came true, no one would admit to it."

Harry thought of his father's cruel mistreatment of Snape and lowered his head, understanding Hawthorn's bitterness and discontent. "How did her fiancé handle it?"

"Tristan was a sullen type and no one really knew him well but anyone who openly criticized Hawthorn had something unpleasant happen to them soon after. Nothing horrible, but Tristan got his point across. The Slytherins backed off after awhile but Tristan made plenty of enemies. I can honestly say that neither of them had an easy time in school.

"After graduation, Hawthorn opened her shop and Tristan carved a sign for her with his own two hands. He was so _proud_ of her and did everything he could to make the place look nice so people would come. Tristan, however, went to work for Voldemort. Hawthorn hated what he did and asked him often to ease his way out of that life and into a more respectable profession. She slowly wore him down, though he remained loyal to the Dark lord.

"A few days before the wedding, Hawthorn awoke with a feeling of foreboding that would not go away – according to my aunt who heard the story from Hawthorn's mother. Hawthorn had seen Tristan's death and, in the vision, he was wearing the same clothes he put on that day. Hawthorn was frantic, knowing Tristan would likely be killed that very night. According to my aunt, Hawthorn described him as being with a group of Death Eaters as the Dark Mark floated in the sky above and so she told Tristan that if he went on one of Voldemort's missions he would never come home. She begged him, crying and so mortified, so adamant that Tristan denounced the Dark lord and stayed home with her when he was called, ignoring Voldemort's wishes."

Harry sipped his tea, knowing where the story was headed. "I can only imagine how Voldemort felt about that."

"Yes, we all know Voldemort doesn't suffer his betrayers to live. He sent the very Slytherins who'd tormented Hawthorn in school to kill him and they took pleasure in doing so in front of her. She's never forgiven herself for what happened to Tristan."

"It wasn't her fault!"

"But can't you see where she would think it was? Hawthorn set the vision she saw in motion. It was a warning to _her,_ to stop insisting he leave the Death Eaters, but she misread it. Had she said nothing, it may never have come to pass. She mistook the Death Eaters she saw in the vision to be Tristan's companions, out doing harm in Voldemort's name. Instead, they were his murderers. The Dark Mark she saw in the sky hovered over her own house. By begging him to leave the service of the Dark lord, she'd sealed his fate. She made the vision she'd seen become reality."

Harry swallowed hard, his expression disturbed by the injustice of it all. "It _wasn't_ her fault."

"I agree. Now, I have to ask you to keep that story to yourself, Harry. My aunt told me in confidence. It isn't common knowledge."

"Of course. I understand." Harry took a deep breath. "I had a feeling you were the person to come to with this. It didn't occur to me until you sat down but I know now that I'm right."

"What is it, Harry? Whatever it is, it sounds important."

"Everything may depend on it."

Mystic leaned in and took a sip of Harry's tea before she met his serious eyes. "I'm listening."

* * *

Harry walked into his office, dejected but feeling better than he had, even if the improvement was only slight. He'd left Mystic's Café with a sense of hope and wanted only to discuss it with his team. His mood brightened when he saw his team was present. _All_ of his team.

"Harry!" Mariah leapt out of her chair and hurried over to hug him. "I'm so glad you're ok. I came to see you in the hospital this morning but you were still asleep. Ron dropped in to see how I was doing and told me all about everything that's happened since we went to spy on Bellatrix. You've been busy."

"_Too_ busy. I don't think I've sat down for more than two minutes all day. This has to be the longest Saturday in history." Harry kissed her cheek and released her. "I'm glad the spiders didn't do much damage. I don't want anything bad happening to our next Minister of Magic. We need you around, so no more trips to the hospital!"

Mariah grinned and gave him another quick hug. "Same to you! When I'm minister, you'll be my secret weapon so stop running into wards, Harry Potter!"

Mariah returned to her spot behind Hermione's desk with a grin and resumed researching something.

Harry glanced at the wall nearest the door and smiled. "Who hung the scrying mirror?"

Hermione rolled backward out of the X-closet on the wheeled chairs the agents were so fond of flying around the office in. "I did. I thought it would be striking if it were the first thing a person sees when they walk through the door. Do you like it?"

"It's perfect! Thanks, Hermione."

"I don't know why we need a scrying mirror but the office could use a little decoration. Wherever did you find that?"

Harry thought her view of the scrying mirror might change if she knew it had come from Hawthorn and so gave a vague response. "I picked it up in a shop earlier. I thought it was interesting."

"Well, useless as it is, whoever made it did an excellent job. The border around it is better than well done. You don't see such elaborate scrying mirrors every day."

Harry had a feeling Hermione would be less than pleased if she knew whom she was complimenting and had to suppress his amusement. "I thought so, too. I'm glad you like it." He laid his jumper over the back of his chair, noticing Colin Creevey's camera was laying on his desk, meaning Colin was probably developing photographs in the back room. Seamus was levitating Swan's hat and repeatedly letting it drop onto the desk, only to do it again once Swan put it back on. The agents were deep in discussion over an article in _The Daily Prophet._ Harry turned back to Hermione. "How's Chris?"

Hermione sighed. "She refused the potion. She should be mostly back to normal by now but she won't even speak except to demand her freedom. I said she'd have to wait for you to come home so you might want to go up, Harry. She's really upset."

"What's new? She's been really upset since she woke up this morning."

"She, um, thinks you're a rotten liar, a horrible person, a scheming, manipulative creep, she despises you, and she wants only to get as far away from here as she can so she can forget you ever existed."

Harry nodded and dragged his feet up the stairs, thinking this had to be the craziest day he'd had in a long time. He'd been on the go since waking up in the hospital and it wasn't over yet. He wanted to contact Snape, just to make sure he'd gotten Sylvia to wherever it was he was taking her and then he was going to see Dead Nexus with Ron. Harry hoped he could calm Christina down and maybe have something to eat before running out again.

* * *

Christina was on the couch when Harry came through the door. She stood and turned to him. Her expression was angry, twisted with confusion, and the deep-seated hurt of betrayal hid behind her sad, red-rimmed eyes. Harry tried for an apologetic smile. Christina did not smile back.

"Let me out of here."

"I think it's best if—"

"I _DON'T CARE_ what you think!"

"Chris—"

"What good have your attempts at thinking done for me? All you've done is lie to me, mislead me, and hide everything I needed to know about you, and about myself! I've had enough of you deciding what's good for me. It's about time I started thinking for myself and right now I think I'll take my leave."

"Let me explain."

"You already have. Now open that door."

"You can't just walk out of here."

"Watch me."

"I don't mean I _don't want_ you to. I don't but, if you're seen leaving this office, everyone inside will be arrested and I'd personally hand you over to the men in the hats before I'll let Hermione go to prison over your selfish, rash decisions. It's not going to happen, so sit down and hear me out. There are too many things you don't understand. I'll send for some dinner."

Christina crossed the room and shoved him aside, pulling the door ajar. Seizing the opportunity, she bolted down the stairs, through the door at the bottom and into the office where she came to an abrupt halt.

At the thunder of footfalls, all present had drawn their wands and trained them on the door as Harry came running down the stairs right behind, yelling.

"STOP HER!"

Christina looked at Hermione, Mariah, Seamus and Ron. She turned and felt panic creep up the back of her throat when she saw Steve and Swan in their black suits and their matching fedora hats.

Christina turned and faced Harry.

_Why are you pointing a stick at me? _The scene leapt to the forefront of her mind, immediate but frayed around the edges, fuzzy, like a dream. She'd said that to Harry once, long ago in a distant, hazy memory. Why, when she'd asked if he knew what it meant, did he lie and say he didn't? Christina remembered the loud clatter of the metal lid he'd dropped when she'd said the words and wished she'd known then what she knew now. He'd dropped the lid because she'd taken him off guard. Because he knew _exactly_ what it meant. _"Why are you pointing a stick at me?_ No idea what that means, eh, Harry? Why were you so afraid I'd remember you? What don't you want me to know?"

Harry saw the spark of recognition in her eyes. The memory had surfaced and now he looked even worse than he had only moments ago. Caught in yet another lie. He was quick to stow his wand. "They're weapons of a sort, disguised to look like nothing special. As for your question, come back upstairs with me and I'll gladly answer it."

"Let me out of here. Call off your dogs and open that door."

"I told you, we can't let you walk out of here. You aren't a prisoner, but this has to be done very carefully. You're endangering every person in this room."

Christina shouted, realizing the level of his betrayal. "Enough of this! I should have known you were one of the fedoras!" She swept an arm in the direction of the agents. "You've been their inside man from day one! I _hate_ you, Harry! I TRUSTED you!"

"These two aren't with the others."

"Is every word out of your mouth nothing but lies?"

"You and I are friends, Christina. You've got it all wrong!"

"Are we, Harry? What kind of _friend_ are you? A friend who lies? Who manipulates my feelings? Who uses my absent memory to his advantage?"

"That's not it at all!"

Spite turned her words to acid. "I don't need a friend like you. After all, Sara treated you so well and you betrayed her completely. You treated her like a worthless piece of trash. If you loved her so much, then what would you do to me? Sorry, but I don't want to end up _tossed in the gutter_ like your wife."

Harry's hands curled into fists and his knuckles went white.

Steve and Swan gripped their wands again, fearing Harry might attack her.

Harry seethed. _"Get her out of here."_

Hermione's voice was gentle, cautious. "Harry, it isn't a good idea. We should

sneak her out late at night."

Harry's eyes blazed with anger as he glared at Christina. "I said get her out of here _RIGHT! NOW!"_

Christina trembled, intimidated and frightened by the fury she saw in him. "Harry, I'm sorry. I just want to leave."

"And _leave you will._ The sooner the better."

"I didn't mean what I said about your wife. I shouldn't have—"

"_SHUT UP!!"_

Seamus yelled from across the room. _"How dare you_ speak of Sara to him! I'll curse your tongue right out of your head for that!"

Christina fell quiet as Harry thudded his way back upstairs. He returned a moment later with a beautiful length of fabric. This he shoved into the hands of one of the fedoras. "Get her out of my sight."

Harry gave Christina one last meaningful glare full of rage, pain, and resentment and turned his back on her. He hurried up the stairs. The door slammed hard at the top and he was gone.

When Christina turned, Hermione was standing beside her, livid.

"How could you say such things to Harry! Don't you know he was the only one left who cared about you?" The volume of Hermione's voice rose to match her level of anger. "Even _Draco_ turned his back on you! He lied to you for years, pretending to be out of the country for _months_ at a time when he was really just living across town because he couldn't stand the _thought of your presence!"_

Ron stepped forward when tears slipped down Christina's face in silence.

"We all liked you, Chris. Really, we did, but Harry was the best friend you had. He was the _only_ friend you had. I don't know if he'll ever speak to you again, but I hope he doesn't if that's the way you treat your greatest defender." Ron stepped back to make way for the agents. "Good luck, Christina. You're going to need it."

Christina cried as a blindfold was placed around her eyes. "Tell him I'm sorry. Please, one of you, _tell him I'm sorry."_

Christina wasn't sure which of the men spoke but it didn't matter. The words stung no matter who it was. _"Not a chance,"_ he said and then the fabric was draped over her.

The taller of the two fedoras turned her and pushed her through the door. "Step down. Take three steps and step down again."

Christina did as she was told and soon felt the random lumps of cobblestones under her feet.

The agents directed her in whispers through a maze of passages. She felt an occasional guiding hand on her wrist and sensed people passing them on the street. People greeted the fedoras now and again and she heard their polite replies, but not one person even mentioned her. If she didn't know any better, she'd have thought she was invisible.

At last, the sounds around her changed and Christina thought they might be walking through a pub. The music was low but the rowdy, celebratory din was familiar to her ears and Christina felt embarrassed, being led through a crowd blindfolded and covered with a length of cloth. Why did no one question this?

Before she could ponder it, Christina knew they were out on the street. The pavement was smooth. The familiar scent of car exhaust and the roar of traffic greeted her and Christina relaxed. She was pulled into a doorway. The cloth and the blindfold were removed. She was back in London.

Looking around, Christina noted that the street was quieter and darker than normal for the busy city and there was no pub in sight. They couldn't have walked more than half a block, yet there was nothing in any direction that resembled what she'd expected. No neon signs. No muted sounds spilling out from inside.

"Where are we?"

Steve ignored her question. His manner was cold and formal. "You can find a taxi two streets up. Do not return here."

Swan laid a hand on her shoulder. "Get away from this area and, as my partner said, don't come back this way for the sake of your own safety. Harry was telling the truth when he said we aren't with the others. Do not approach them. They aren't a friendly sort if you know what I mean. And stay away from any place that looms in your memory. If they think you've remembered, you will be in great danger. You may be in danger already. Go somewhere safe. Do not go home."

Christina saw the honesty in the younger man's eyes and realized her error anew. She choked back tears at the thought of Harry. _Her greatest defender._ "Please tell him I'm sorry."

Swan gave her a sympathetic smile, knowing apologies would do her no good.

Steve was annoyed and tapped Swan's shoulder. "Harry called a meeting in case you forgot. We need to get back."

"Just a moment."

"You're wasting your time. She doesn't listen. She'll do what she wants, no matter how many warnings you give her so enough already. Let's go."

Swan took one step and looked at Christina. After a moment of hesitation, he kissed her cheek. "Yes, you said the wrong thing but he's the forgiving sort. Don't dwell on it." Swan stepped away. "Be careful, Miss Safford."

Christina watched the agents disappear through a door back the way they'd come. The night settled over her as she realized she was now alone in the world. There was no one left to help her, no one to warn away those who threatened her, no one to save her from her own foolishness.

She was alone.

And she had nowhere to go.

Christina turned toward the high street and walked along the pavement, wondering what she'd done with her purse. She had no money, no credit cards, no identification. The tears came again as she faced this new reality, wondering what would come of her by morning. Help, it seemed, was beyond her reach.

* * *

"You're having a drink? Sara, you barely touched your dinner."

She smiled away his concern. "I'm just a little nervous. A drink or two usually helps. Don't worry, Draco. I'll be fine." She straightened his immaculate shirt collar. "I'm so excited about tonight."

"So am I." He swept a wisp of hair over her shoulder. "We should leave soon. I'm not sure how long the train to Harlem will take."

"Of course. If you could give me just a few more minutes?"

"You look beautiful." Draco smiled. "I'll be waiting when you're ready."

"Thank you."

He left the room and Sara breathed relief. The truth was, _nervous_ was an understatement. Performing in a club was different from singing on the streets for handouts. All eyes would be on her. It wasn't a noisy corner or a subway platform where most passed by without so much as a glance. Sara felt her throat close up and poured straight liquor over ice. Draco was right. They would need to leave soon.

As she sipped it, Sara remembered the small pocket flask her father used to carry to horse races and this she filled with whiskey. It would go unnoticed in her purse until she was able to get backstage and away from Draco's ever-watchful eye. She didn't understand why he was so concerned every time she had more than a single drink except that it wasn't something he was likely to do himself. There was no way he could understand. Draco had never lacked confidence. He wouldn't comprehend the fear that crept through her at the thought of stepping onto a stage in front of a multitude of judging eyes. It was better to hide the flask in her purse than to worry him over nothing.

Sara finished her drink and met him in the foyer.

Draco held the coat she'd taken from her mother's closet and Sara thanked him as he helped her into it.

"Sara, are you certain you don't mind me wearing your father's dinner jacket? I'd be happy to wear my own clothes."

"Your own clothes are a little run down, Draco. I know how you would feel, going out looking all drab and less than perfect. I want you to feel like yourself for once."

"How I look isn't my concern."

Sara saw the discomfort in his eyes and smiled. "You told me today to take a piece of my parents with me wherever I went. It will please me to look out and see Dad's old jacket on the most handsome man in the room. It pleases me already."

Draco kissed her and breathed relief.

The soft scuffle of feet approached and Sara turned toward the lounge. "Are you sure you won't come, Minister?"

"I'm sure, miss. I haven't been well these past months. I think I'd like to turn in early. Good luck, though I'm certain you won't be needing it. You look lovely, if I may say so."

"Thank you, Minister. Good night."

* * *

"Snape! Are you there?"

Snape came around his sofa, knelt by the fire and groaned when he saw who it was. "What do you want? I've seen quite enough of you for one day I think."

"Did that _book_ I gave you find a home?"

"No need for the cryptic talk, Potter. The agents are all out looking for the minister. I guess they finally decided their presence here wasn't quite as necessary as they once thought. I'd thank you for that if I liked you better."

"Has she said anything?"

"That she was happy to see me. It seems she hates you and found you horrendously unattractive."

Harry sighed. "Anything of _importance?"_

"Unfortunately, the seer you contacted was correct. I ran some tests on her earlier and the curse is present. I've been researching ways to reverse it but I don't think it's possible."

"Is there anything at all you can tell me?"

Snape stood and dropped onto the couch, leaning forward so he could keep his voice low. "Only that you're lucky she came to me unmarred and in good health."

"Let me rephrase. Is there anything you can tell me that might be of help to my investigation and isn't spoken in a threatening tone?"

"No."

"How about if I drop the part about the threatening tone?"

"There may be, but it won't be of _much_ help. Last time she was left in my care, I overheard Sylvia talking to Bellatrix in the fireplace, discussing fog vials. They didn't name the third party they spoke of, but it seems they answer to a woman. What manner of woman Bellatrix would answer to is beyond me. It's puzzled me ever since."

"But that changes everything! All this time we've been focusing on her!"

"That's because you've never been smart enough to look beyond what's directly in front of you, I imagine. It might be beneficial to both of us if you were to share what you _do_ know, something that might help in designing my questions for her. Perhaps, if I knew what was going on, I could find clever ways to get information out of her."

"We've already tried that."

Snape rolled his eyes. "I said _clever_ ways, Potter."

Harry sighed, too exhausted to have a battle of wits with Severus Snape. "We know next to nothing. We know Bellatrix was involved in stealing our spell books and that they plan to release Voldemort. They don't have the keys, though, so we aren't as worried about that as we once were. We're in agreement that the keys were why they were after Draco. They made him a criminal to take the focus off themselves and also so that every wizard alive would be on the lookout for him. Since the ministry has been overthrown, he need only be arrested."

"Makes perfect sense."

"Their plan somehow involves Azkaban and the Ministry of Magic, though we have no idea if it's all related or if these are two separate plots. Also, they've been using the fog vials to stockpile Aquadrite and, we believe, Noctris. I don't know what they would use Aquadrite for but, according to Yates, all sales of fog vials have stopped. We had spying devices in his shop and thought they might have caught on, so Hermione questioned a few other places and they're all puzzled by the sudden disinterest in what was a rather hot item. We don't know what it means."

"_It means_ they have all they need and they plan to act soon. Are you really an Auror or did you make that up?"

"As I was about to say, that was my guess as well."

"Thank Merlin, I have to go. Someone's coming, Potter."

Harry had just opened his mouth to ask about Sara, but Snape was gone.

* * *

In her time away, dinner clubs had changed.

It was run down. Shadows hid dirt and stains, though the place had clearly been nice once. Maybe even upscale, but the club had seen its heyday come and go. The décor hadn't changed much since the thirties or forties, though it still held a certain charm that Sara liked and felt inspired by as she made her way through the curtain at the back of the stage. Old electric candles clung to the faded red wallpaper, peeling in places and patched in others. The room was comfortable, relaxed, and welcoming. It was all about the music. Nothing here was pretentious, stuffy or formal. The best-dressed people in the room were a step above casual but Sara knew this wouldn't bother Draco. He was accustomed to outshining his surroundings.

Sara stood on the scuffed black lacquer stage, all fear and inhibitions smothered in a haze of drunkenness, looking glamorous, beautiful, and swaying on her feet. She stepped to the microphone and smiled. Sara felt Charles' arm wrap around her waist and he bent close to her ear. "If you think you're going to pass out, you cue me, you hear?"

"I'm fine."

"If I cue _you,_ get the hell off the stage."

"I said I'm fine!"

The crowd packed close to the stage. There were tables but they were in the back of the large room with its dim, ambient lighting and dinner seemed secondary to the night's performance. Sara's vision blurred as she looked for Draco who, even though he was beyond overdressed, refused to remove David Lemke's dinner jacket. She found him in a dark corner to her left, applauding her entrance right along with everyone else. She smiled and gave him a subtle wave of her hand. Charles hovered close and she could tell he wasn't happy with her state of insobriety but it had been necessary. She'd almost turned around and gone home when she'd stepped off the train with Draco. Now, after finishing what was in the flask, here she was, standing in the soft spotlight, smiling, and ready to sing.

Charles' long brown fingers settled around the polished brass of his instrument. He began to play and the mellow tones of the saxophone soothed her, enfolded her, and Sara sighed, entranced by it. The other instruments joined the slow arrangement, a piano, a clarinet, a cello, various stings and horns. Sara closed her eyes and felt the melody, let it fill her soul with the rapture of music and Draco's voice whispered through her mind.

_Become her…_

Sara did.

The low, honey voice of her mother echoed through the room and the crowd grew quiet, subdued and enchanted. Every eye was on Sara, unable to look away, in awe of her. The allure of the Elemental wrapped around her smooth tones, seeping through all who heard and holding them in fascination, feeling what she felt, lured into complete understanding. The music drifted around her. The lights caught in her platinum hair. The ice-blue dress sparkled and dazzled as Sara brought the essence of Diana Lemke to life on the stage.

In her mind, Sara went back in time. She sat on a stool in a hot, steamy New Orleans lounge, watching her mother sing in a shimmering ice-blue dress. Sara turned to see her father sitting beside her, watching with such pride, such affection in his eyes that Sara was struck by the love and admiration her parents had shared. Her voice caught as tears welled in her eyes and Sara felt a hand on her waist.

"Sara?"

Sara looked into the careworn face, the wise brown eyes, and gave him a smile and a nod. The soft light glinted off the shiny brass sax, the piano flourished and Sara came back to the present. Charles nodded back and then played like never before, rousing the crowd from their trance and drawing heartfelt cheers as he eased into an energetic solo. Sara watched as he arched back, holding high notes, leaned over the low ones, and danced as the others joined back in.

Sara swooned on her feet, turned and stepped the few feet to the piano, which she leaned against, holding the mic with grace while she waited for the bridge to build into something vivacious and lively. The mood in the room had reached a fever pitch and, as Sara lifted the microphone for the song's finale, her voice bellowed over the frantic music, perfect, sassy, and beyond anything her mother had ever accomplished. People were shouting, dancing, cheering, urging the band to new heights, and Sara was in her glory.

Nothing in her life had ever felt better than this.

One by one, the instruments quieted, tapered away until only the mellow sounds of the sax remained, slowing until only Sara's voice was heard. The din subsided until she held the room in a single flawless note, falling away until there was nothing. Sara took a deep breath and opened her eyes.

If she thought the reception at Hogwarts had been appreciative, it was nothing compared to the ear-shattering thunder of applause that shook the house as she stood there, smiling and overwhelmed. Charles' arm again went around her waist as she swayed on her feet, walking her back to the front of the stage. He kissed her cheek and took the mic.

"Let's hear it for this _captivating_ young lady! _Sara,_ everybody!"

The ovation was deafening. Sara bowed, shallow, for fear she'd fall over and the applause grew louder. How this group of people could possibly make any more noise was beyond her, but it was time to make her exit. Sara looked to the back of the room and found Draco out of his seat, clapping hard and fast. She caught his eyes and his elated smile filled her heart.

Charles was careful to lead her off the stage, keeping a tight hold on her waist as the sounds of the crowd followed her out. Sara lost her balance and bumped the piano, but Charles caught her and held her fast. No one noticed.

Once behind the curtain, Charles stopped and turned to her. _"Good lord_, woman! You sing like that, you can show up just as smashed as you want! Hell, we'll tie ropes to lighting rigs to keep you upright if that's what it takes!"

"I didn't mean to drink so much. I had a touch of stage fright. Do you think anyone noticed?"

"If they did, they sure as hell didn't care! We've never got a response like that in ten years!" Charles threw his arms around her and swung her around, laughing as he set her back on her feet.

"_Whoa._ I don't know if spinning me was such a good idea." Sara lost her balance as he let her go and stumbled to the side. Charles caught her. "Get me to the loo. Hurry!"

"What in sam hell's a loo?"

"The bathroom!"

Realization bloomed in his eyes. "Oh. It's right around this corner."

Sara fell through the door, knelt on the dirty floor in her beautiful dress, and threw up. Outside, she could hear the manager raving, delighted, telling Charles not to come back without the girl who sang or there'd be hell to pay.

"There ain't been a voice like that in here since Billie, and that was a long damn time ago, old man!"

Sara could hear the man's ecstatic grin and would have smiled if she weren't leaning over a filthy toilet.

Sara, it seemed, had a job.

* * *

Mariah slammed her book with a puff of dust and stood. "Hermione, I'm going over to The Leaky Cauldron for a sandwich. I thought I'd get it wrapped up so I can eat while we research all this stuff. Want one?"

"I would, thanks. I wish Harry and Ron hadn't run off without dinner. Maybe they'll grab something from Mystic's."

"Want to walk over with me?"

"No, I think I'm onto something with the Aquadrite. Azkaban is on an island and I think it might be possible to tunnel inside from under the water. I simply can't find mention of how well controlled the blasts are."

"You're sure you'll be ok here by yourself?"

"I'm pregnant, not helpless." Hermione laughed. "I'll be fine. Oh, and no onions on mine. Lots of cheese."

"Got it. No cheese, lots of onions." She grinned. "I'll be right back." Mariah went into the approaching darkness and closed the door behind her.

Moments later, a knock came at the door and Hermione looked up from her book, startled. She pulled the cloak Harry made her wear from the back of her chair and pulled it around her as she crossed to answer it.

"You again! How many times do I have to slam the door in your face before you get the message?"

Hawthorn's frightened, sober eyes pleaded with Hermione. "I need to talk to Harry. It's important!"

"_Important?_ Nothing you've ever said has been important! Look, Harry doesn't need advice from some misguided Slytherin _nutcase_ so stay away from him!"

"The cloak! You're wearing the cloak! Don't take it off, for any reason! I can't tell you how important it is that you wear it. The safety of the entire wizarding world depends on it!"

Hermione scoffed, annoyed that Harry had listened to such gibberish and then forced her to carry his cloak around on this crazy woman's word. "I wouldn't be wearing it if I'd known you were putting ridiculous ideas in his head! I've had enough of this. Harry has enough going on in his life without your insane scare tactics! Do you have any idea how worried he's been about me since he came home and started ranting about me carrying this cloak? If you so much as speak to him again, I'll curse you right into the psych ward at St. Mungo's, where you belong!"

"You must wear the cloak! I don't care if you believe me. Wear it anyway! PLEASE!"

"This conversation is over."

Hermione swung the door shut, but Hawthorn put out a hand to stop it.

"_Red twilight,"_ she said. "Look at the sky!"

Hermione went out on the step and craned her neck to look beyond the portico at

the darkened, red-tinged sky. _"So what?"_ She went back in and grabbed the door again.

"You have to tell him! Get those words to him any way you can. _Red twilight!"_

Hermione rolled her eyes, irritated. _"Red nonsense_. Got it. Goodbye." She slammed the door and went back to her desk, shedding the cloak on her way. This she threw over Ron's desk, annoyed and flustered. "That's the last time I ever wear _that _cloak! Crazy drunk…"

* * *

Draco pulled Sara through the front door and into the foyer. "Come on, Sara! I got something to celebrate!"

"In advance? How'd you know I'd even go through with it?"

"What I _knew_ was that you'd be a smashing success, but never in all my fondest daydreams have you sung so well! Go on in the lounge and sit down. I'll bring it in."

"As long as it isn't champagne. My stomach's a bit off."

"Not champagne. Better."

"I'll be waiting." Sara hung her mother's coat on the rack in the foyer and wandered into the lounge, thinking she might lay on the sofa until Draco came back with his surprise. However, Sara got a surprise of another sort. "Minister! I thought

you'd gone to bed hours ago!"

"Mrs. Potter, sit down. Quickly, before the Malfoy boy returns."

"It's Sara, Minister. Sara Lemke for now."

"All that aside, I remembered what it was I'd forgotten earlier."

"What is it?"

"I recalled hearing something about the concert you say Harry is attending tonight at Slytherin Spirits. The men who've taken over the ministry were discussing a secret traitor to the Light side when they mentioned it. I don't know what it means, I heard

none of the plans, but I fear for your Harry."

Sara sat on the floor before the coffee table, forgetting her lingering drunkenness and her ill stomach. She removed the Orb of Arassel and brought it to full size.

"Wait, miss." The minister pulled a small slip of parchment from his pocket and held it out to her. "Harry asked me to give this to you. I thought it best done in private."

Sara unfolded it and her gaze lingered on the entwined hearts, similar to those she and Harry had once drawn on a mirror during the hardest part of their premarital relationship. After everything that had happened between then and now, the meaning hadn't changed, only grown, and Sara held the paper to her chest, closing her eyes as if to savor the strength she drew from it. With a pained expression, Sara slipped the beloved scrap of parchment in her pocket. She would have to dwell on it later.

"Miss?"

"I need to look. I rarely consult the future but perhaps the orb will show me something useful."

"What do you see?"

"White sheets. Water. I don't know what any of this means." As the scene was changing, Sara lost patience. _"Red twilight?_ That's just a myth!" Sara returned the orb to her finger and sighed. "This is a waste of time. Reading the future always is. It never makes any sense. However, Harry asked me to meet him tonight, but then later asked me not to enter Diagon Alley. He's probably already onto the traitor but I think I'll relay the message anyway." Sara was desperate to see Harry after the note he'd sent her and used the minister's Swiss cheese memory as reason to break her word and go.

Sara hurried to the foyer, threw her cloak around her shoulders and grabbed the Portkey back to England.

The minister had come into the foyer.

Draco came through with two bowls of chocolate ice cream with raspberry sauce. "Sara! What are you doing?"

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Sara, wait! You haven't even changed your clothes! I have _ice cream!"_

"I'm sorry, Draco. I have to go."

Sara touched the key and disappeared.

* * *

38


	21. Chapter 21: Under a Blood Red Sky

**Part Three: The Hardest Part**

_**The **__**G**__**irl in the Tower 2: **_

_**Home By the Sea**_

_**Chapter 21: Under a Blood Red Sky**_

And the battle's just begun  
There're many lost but tell me, who has won?  
The trench is dug within our hearts  
Mothers, children, brothers, sisters torn apart

…Sunday, bloody Sunday…

**From:** "Sunday, Bloody Sunday" **By:** U2

* * *

Hawthorn trembled as she ran into Madam Malkin's, shoving the doors open with outstretched hands. Her frantic eyes glanced around at the startled patrons. Her hair, which was usually clean and neatly combed, was matted, stringy and damp from running. It swished across the shoulders of a ratty old green dress as her head turned from side to side, catching every pair of eyes. A matching, careworn cape billowed out behind her.

"Get as far from here as you can!" she shouted, her voice already hoarse from calling out to those she'd passed on the street. "You're all going to die!"

The room erupted with laughter.

Two older women came from around the counter with sour, harried faces and approached her. Neither looked terribly accepting of the warning she'd given.

"Madam Malkin! Put all the fire repellant wards you can on your shop right away! Warn the other merchants! It's all going to burn to the ground!"

Madam Malkin attempted a pleasant smile and took Hawthorn's arm, turning her back toward the door. "I assure you… Sybil, isn't it?"

"Hawthorn!"

"Whatever your name is… This building has stood for centuries and I highly doubt it's going anywhere, so I'll thank you to kindly stop trying to frighten my customers. Please do not return unless you plan to _quietly_ buy something. In fact, I'd prefer if you didn't come back at all."

Her free arm was seized by Madam Malkin's assistant and Hawthorn found herself being forced to the doors.

Someone snickered. _"She's probably drunk."_

Hawthorn panicked. "Wait! You must listen to me! We're under attack!"

Madam Malkin glanced outside and rolled her eyes with impatience. "By what? Invisible people? Go home and sleep it off."

"_I'm not drunk!_ This store will burn if you don't listen to me! _PEOPLE WILL DIE!"_

"Now you listen to _me._ I don't take kindly to threats. I'd have summoned the Aurors already if I didn't feel sorry for you. Now bugger off!"

The two women shoved Hawthorn through the doors to the sounds of laughter and she fell hard to the ground, tripping over the cobbles and landing in a flowerbed. Tears of frustration burned her eyes as she climbed to her feet, ignoring the dark mud that clung to her, and her shouted words echoed through the narrow street. "I'm not lying! _I SAW IT!"_

A young man, tall and gangly but with a kind face and gentle eyes, stopped as he passed and offered his handkerchief.

Hawthorn was flooded with gratitude by such a simple act, for it was the first moment of kindness she'd been shown all evening. "Thank you." She clutched the square of linen, trying to dry tears that continued to fall.

"You a'right? Took a tumble it seems."

"I'm fine." She sniffled. "I just wish someone would listen to me! Why will _no one_ listen?! I saw the red twilight. I saw the stores burning. People are going to die tonight and no one will _listen!"_ She handed back the handkerchief.

The man smiled, trying his best to be polite but unable to hide his amusement. He stifled a laugh. "You go ahead and keep that. Sybil, isn't it? Let me know when the aliens land, eh?"

He hurried away, chuckling under his breath.

Hawthorn threw the linen to the ground with a scowl and a hurtful ache and wiped her eyes with her dirty hands.

Maybe Olivander's would heed her warning.

* * *

Hermione groaned with frustration as she went to the door with an angry pace, irritated and fed up with Diagon Alley's resident inebriated kook. "I told you to GO! AWAY!" she shouted and flung the door open.

The flash was instantaneous.

Hermione collapsed to the floor.

* * *

Mariah fell back to the shadows, watching in horror as Hermione was carried away under the guise of a cloak amidst many of the same. Her heart hammered in her chest, her breath came in quick, frightened gasps and her mind raced with the desperation of the situation. What could she possibly do? There were too many of them to confront all by herself. If she rushed out to save Hermione, it was likely she'd end up dead and Hermione would be left without recourse or hope of rescue. What she needed was reinforcements.

What she needed was _Harry._

Thinking fast, Mariah summoned Hedwig, who flew from the upper storey of Harry's shop and straight to where Mariah hid in the darkness of a recessed doorway.

Mariah gave her instructions in an anxious whisper. "Hedwig, follow that group! They have Hermione and I need to go for Harry right away. Stay out of sight and don't return until you're sure there's someone coming after her. We'll need you as a guide." Mariah kissed the bird's head and stood. "This is the most important thing you'll ever do, more important than any letter you've ever carried. Make Harry proud!" She flung Hedwig into the air.

Hedwig flew off at once and, forgetting the sandwiches on the ground at her feet, Mariah raced back toward the office.

A shadow moved out of the darkness across the street, cloaked, hooded, and with wand in hand.

* * *

Ron grinned amidst the swarm of a capacity crowd. He swayed on his feet, no longer aware of the bumps, budges, brushes, and unintentional pushing of those around him, most of whom were unintentionally pushed by someone else. The few inches of ale in his giant mug rocked and sloshed. "Drink up, Harry! You deserve a night out after the day you've had."

"The day isn't over yet, Ron. Don't drink any more ale."

"Geez. I thought I left my personal anti-ale activist back at the office? What is it with the two of you?"

Harry stumbled as someone fell into him from behind. "I'm a little paranoid these days. Keeping my wits about me seems like the best idea."

"Relax, mate. Here come Fred and George!"

Fred grinned with a mug in one hand and two in the other. "Oh Captain, my Captain!"

George matched his brother's grin. "We'd salute you but we'd spill beer on our heads!"

Fred held out a mug of ale. "Here, Harry. You looked a little empty-handed."

Harry knew better than to try to decline. He took the mug and decided it would take him approximately twelve hours to drink it, drawing satisfied smiles from all three brothers. He thanked them and sipped it.

"Hey guys! Seamus joined their gathering with his own mug. "Good to see you made it, Harry! I figured one more bomb might land on you before the day was over."

"The day isn't over yet."

Ron turned to Seamus. "What's the bloody holdup? Wasn't it supposed to start already?"

Seamus rolled his eyes. "That incredible git, Nexus, showed up a few minutes ago, demanding his spot back and carrying on about me using his old drum set. He's backstage arguing with Lyman and things were getting ugly so I thought I'd wander out here and say hello."

All heads turned as the stage door shot open with a loud BANG! and what could only be Nexus, tall and blond haired, wearing a blue cloak to match his blue eyes, and furious as hell, came tearing through it, drawing his wand and blowing the drum set in every direction. Neville and another man tackled him, all three of them falling to the floor in a regular wrestling match.

Harry looked on, expressionless. "I take it that's Lyman."

Seamus hurried back to the stage, raised his mug over Nexus' head, only Lyman flipped him over just as Seamus' arm swung with the force of a mighty blow and Seamus smashed the heavy glass over Neville's head. Neville staggered for a moment before someone grabbed him from the sidelines and pulled him back through the doorway.

The crowd went crazy when they saw a full-blown fight in progress and a cacophony of shouts and cheers replaced the loud chatter of personal conversations. Without missing a beat, Harry saw Fred and George were already working the room, taking bets and setting odds from moment to moment. Nexus was much larger, much faster, and twice as angry as Lyman, who did little more than try to push his opponent and alternately hide from him behind columns and amplifiers. Seamus charged Nexus, who swung Neville's bass guitar, knocking Seamus to the floor of the stage. Seamus was quick to get back on his feet.

Some guy beside Harry started waving his hand in the air, shouting to Fred or George, or whomever answered first. "FIVE GALLEONS ON BLUE CLOAK!"

Harry glanced to the bar, wondering if anyone was going to do anything about this disruption, only to see Slyth glance at the stage, shrug, and go back to filling double pints. Craning his neck a little further, Harry saw the resident drunk, Warf, swaying in the doorway holding a bottle of beer, shouting instructions. "HEY SCOTLAND! THE VULCAN DEATH GRIP! LITTLE GUY! HIT 'IM WITH A KLINGON… um... DEATH… BLOW!"

Some woman turned and threw some popcorn at him. "You don't know shite about Star Trek!"

Harry turned back just in time to see a saxophone fly across the stage, hit Nexus in the head and crash to the floor. Harry sighed and pulled a few coins from his pocket. "FIVE GALLEONS ON SEAMUS!"

* * *

Hawthorn stood in the middle of Flourish & Blott's, looking at the same scene she'd experienced a dozen times over. Snide laughter. Disbelief. Someone coming to show her out. Her frustration had reached its limit and her hands curled into fists. "I don't care if you believe me!" she shouted. "What can it hurt to take some precautions? Ask yourselves, what if I'm _right?"_

More snickers.

Hawthorn looked to a woman who sat alone at a table, drinking chai from Mystic's. Her long blonde hair, parted on the side, hung down past her shoulders and was tucked behind one ear. She was tall and thin. Hawthorn thought she'd be snooty at a glance, but her eyes said she was kind-hearted, accepting, and she wasn't laughing.

"Please listen to me, miss. Something bad is about to happen. I'm a seer and I know this sounds crazy, but everything's going to burn. I saw the red twilight. People are going to die!"

Someone coughed a few tables away. "A seer? She's a drunk and a little touched in the head. Go home, Sybil. _Nobody cares."_

The girl at the table, who Hawthorn remembered was an ex-girlfriend of Warf's, gave her a kind smile. "I'm sorry, Hawthorn. I'm just a Muggle. I can't help you."

Another voice came from across the room. "Get the hell out of here! We're trying to read!"

Hawthorn bowed her head, defeated, and slammed the door behind her as she left.

A book dropped from a shelf and fell to the floor. The Muggle girl went to it, lifted it, and looked at the page to which it had opened. Her expression lit with surprise and shocked realization. Her eyes flew to the door through which Hawthorn had left, her voice a whisper of disbelief. _"Oh my god."_

"What is it?" the coughing man asked.

"The Greek myth of Cassandra. The seer whom no one believed."

* * *

An old lamppost stood silent sentry on the corner and Hawthorn stopped to catch her breath. Her heart beat fast and hard in her chest. She lingered there a long moment, flushed, gasping for air and wiping her brow with the edge of her cape. Darkness had just taken the last light from the sky and the street was alive: not crowded, but speckled with people. Witches and wizards of all ages milled about, hurried past, or strolled with friends, perhaps on their way to one of the area's many pubs. Some were doing last minute shopping. Some were on their way in and some were – hopefully – on their way out.

Hawthorn clung to the post, calling out to those who passed, unable to let them leave her midst unwarned. Her conscious demanded it. "Get out of Diagon Alley!" she managed, terribly short of breath. "Red twilight… the buildings… will burn… people… will die!"

Most ignored her. Some glanced at her reddened face, damp, stringy hair and dirt-covered clothes and turned away at once, afraid to make eye contact. Others, of course, laughed.

Hawthorn pushed herself off the old wrought iron lamppost and hurried back into the street on heavy, tired legs. If only one person followed her advice and left, all her efforts would be worth it. A single life saved was better than waiting for ruin in silence.

The cobblestone street was far from ideal when it came to running. Her ankles were sore from stepping wrong on the rounded stones and she was exhausted. How much more ground could she really cover before she collapsed? Knowing she couldn't go on, Hawthorn gave up running from place to place, slowed to a walk and headed for home. It was time to prepare for what was to come.

"Save yourselves!" she shouted, falling in beside a man with a young girl of about six or seven who had eyes that reminded her of Tristan, holding his hand. A warm smile graced her expression as Hawthorn let a hand rest for a moment against the girl's wiry red hair. "Sir, take the little girl and get away from here! The Death Eaters are about to attack and we're all going to die!"

The tall, handsome man scowled and gave Hawthorn a one-handed shove. "What the bloody hell is _wrong_ with you? You're scaring my daughter!" He pulled the ginger haired child to his other side, away from Hawthorn. "Bugger off, lady!"

Hawthorn fell back, dejected, upset and disheartened, only to hear two old women whispering about her a few steps behind.

"Someone should do something about that poor woman. Just look at her, Ingrid! She doesn't even know what she's doing anymore."

Ingrid, the elderly woman's elderly companion, took a righteous tone that reached Hawthorn's ears loud and clear.

"Bob says he sees her over at the pub buying vodka every few days. Just look at the state of her clothes and she's spending money on _vodka_ of all things! The law needs to step in, that's my opinion. Bob's, too."

Hawthorn saw a group of students about to pass in the other direction and her heart leapt into her throat. Children shouldn't be here at such a dangerous time! She'd been spreading the news for nearly an hour, hadn't anyone told them something bad was about to happen? "Kids, listen to me! Get off the streets! Go home before it's too late!"

All of them gave her blank, bewildered stares as she passed and, as soon as she did, all five burst out laughing. She turned in surprise when one of the whisperers lay a hand on her arm.

The woman spoke with caring, with gentleness and with understanding. "Sybil, it might be best if you went home now, dear."

"My name is HAWTHORN!!"

Ingrid gasped and dragged her companion away by the arm. "Edith! Don't get so close to her! You never know what a… _someone like_ _that_ is going to do!"

Edith rejoined Ingrid, casting a distrustful glance at Hawthorn. The two women slowed their pace and let the distance between themselves and Hawthorn grow.

When Hawthorn faced front again, the little girl with the haunting eyes was looking back at her, curious. She smiled and the thought of anything happening to this child was more than she could bear. Hawthorn hurried back to the tall man's side once more, leaving a few feet between them and with the girl on the other side, a safe distance away. She lowered her voice. "Sir, I'm not crazy. I swear it to you. I'm a seer and no one will listen to me. Please take your daughter out of Diagon Alley."

The man drew his wand and used it to throw Hawthorn from his side into a park bench twenty paces away. She landed hard and heard the twitter of amusement echo through the passers-by.

The tall man turned to her with fury underlying his expression. "Before all of these witnesses, I warn you. Come near me or my daughter again and you will be cursed!"

Hawthorn stood. "I meant no harm, sir! Please, save the little girl!"

His answer was to shelter his daughter under a protective arm and hurry away, glancing back to make sure she wasn't running after him.

Hawthorn's eyes widened when she saw a familiar face coming toward her, hurrying somewhere and about to pass her by without so much as a glance. She shot to her feet. "Lisa! LisaRene!"

Lisa sighed with impatience. "Hello, Hawthorn. I'd love to chat but I have things to do. You understand."

"Lisa, you have to help me! I saw everything burning. I saw the red twilight! No one will listen - they all think I'm crazy - you have to spread the word!"

"Sorry, I really don't have time." Lisa averted her cold, disinterested eyes and tried to hurry away. "Good evening."

Hawthorn grabbed Lisa's arm. "You have to help me! People's lives are in danger! The Death Eaters-"

"The Death Eaters are all in Azkaban! Enough of this nonsense!"

"They've escaped! I saw it, the white sheets, the red twilight, it's all about to happen and we have to be _ready_ for it!"

"_Stupefy!" _Lisa stowed her wand as she watched Hawthorn fall back onto the bench and slump over. "You talk too much, _Sybil."_

The street erupted with applause and shouts of approval.

Lisa bowed to her appreciators and continued on her way.

* * *

There was no way it could work. Sara told him once that being so far away made this manner of communication next to impossible unless the telepath was highly skilled and _that_ he wasn't. Still, his need was great and he was willing to try his hardest. That had to count for something.

Getting the minister to part with the information hadn't been easy. It seemed Smidgeon thought Sara was on her way to see Harry but he hadn't understood what she'd seen in the orb. Draco did, and he knew Sara had acted casual and left because she knew what it meant, too. The white sheets could only be one thing. He wasn't sure what it signified exactly, but the knowledge filled him with a sense of dread he couldn't explain and the red twilight… Draco hadn't studied Divination but he'd heard the phrase before. Draco recalled his father, pacing their kitchen in anticipation of a large-scale attack, smiling his secret smile and saying the words. "There will be a red twilight tonight for certain."

Draco walked faster, clutching the vial and the folded cloak in his nervous hands.

That particular street corner was several blocks from the house. The night was chilled, but Draco walked with a quick pace and it kept him warm. He reached his destination in just a few minutes and he closed his eyes, deep in concentration.

_Come get me! Hurry!_

Draco opened his eyes again and held his breath. He'd put so much effort behind the push there was no way it could fail to reach its target. He waited approximately five seconds, decided it hadn't worked, and decided to try again. This time, Draco cleared his mind of all thought and distraction, as he'd learned to do in Occlumency training, and concentrated on a single face. This face was far away and, using dreamlike imagery, he pictured himself throwing a rope around Severus Snape and pulled him closer until he was within earshot. With all the force he could muster, Draco shouted his words across the distance.

He could do no better than that. Now, all he could do was wait.

Draco paced the concrete, oblivious to the frantic start and stop of traffic, the taxis blaring their horns in a never-ending urban concerto and the people traversing the crosswalks in every direction. He watched as all four corners filled with pedestrians, half of whom hurried across when the signal turned from orange to white. However, on his little stretch of pavement, Draco noticed there was a small area, just big enough for a person or two to stand, in which nobody walked. The Muggles weren't consciously avoiding it, they just sidestepped it as if that area was occupied. Draco wondered what it was they saw there. He, as a wizard, saw nothing.

"Draco!"

Draco breathed relief when Snape appeared in the empty space. He tucked the vial into his pocket, pulled the cloak around his shoulders and took Snape's arm. "Let's go," he said. "I'll explain on the way."

* * *

Since it was the place she'd last touched the key, Sara found herself standing on the street before Harry's office. The smile she'd worn just for him drifted away as she noticed the door, which stood wide open. Nobody appeared to be inside. A coil of fear unfurled a little in her stomach. This wasn't normal.

No, not normal at all.

Sara drew Voldemort's wand and pressed flat against the façade just outside. Her intuition told her all threat had passed but Sara decided it was better to err on the side of caution and allowed her Auror instincts to take over.

Swinging into the doorway, Sara surveyed the empty room and was across it in a moment's time, finding exactly what she'd expected. _Nothing._

A flick of the wand closed and locked the door so no one would have the opportunity to sneak up behind her. She poked her head in the X closet, finding only two wheeled chairs and eight spying devices. A check into the two small rooms in back yielded only the remnants of Colin's photo developing. Sara went upstairs, found nothing of interest, folded a blanket that lay on the couch and then went back down to the office.

This time, Sara took a closer look in the hopes of finding some indication of what happened here. Nothing was out of place. Had the wind blown the door open? Had someone run out without checking to make sure it was latched? Something told her the answer to both of these questions was no. Harry and Ron's desks were dark and in order, as if they'd closed up for the night and gone to Slytherin Spirits as planned. Sara's sixth sense told her this was right.

A candle still burned in a lamp on Hermione's desk. Books and scrolls were scattered about. The tea in her cup was still warm. Harry's dragon hide cloak was tossed over the corner of Ron's desk and the angle at which it was draped told her Hermione probably put it there on the way to her desk. One thing was for certain. Something was wrong. The knowledge gnawed at the delicate band which held that coil of fear in place.

Sara's eyes landed on the scrying mirror, which she'd missed upon her explosive entrance, and went to it.

An image, a dim bit of movie film, formed and moved before her eyes as Sara watched, transfixed as the now familiar white sheets flapped under strong gusts of wind. Sara didn't understand until the scene panned out. Fear trampled whatever calm she'd been able to hold onto as the ocean crashed against the unforgiving rocks of a bluff below, splashing the canvas walls of a great white tent with sprays of salt water. Sara gasped as realization finally took hold.

Azkaban Prison.

_It was empty_.

Sara was unable to move as she watched Diagon Alley burn. White masks drifted through the flames, agonizing screams pierced her brain and, through the horror of it all, the Dark Mark came to the forefront, searing its image into the glass until Sara's eyes grew wide with panic. A song wafted through her mind as she watched the terrifying images unfold. _Sunday, Bloody Sunday._ Only U2 wasn't singing it.

The coil sprung.

Sara turned and made to run out of the office but here eyes fell on the dragon hide cloak, tossed across Ron's desk. A sense of dread settled over her as she considered it and it was Hermione who came to mind. Sara threw the cloak around her shoulders and ran full out toward Slytherin Spirits.

* * *

The candles flickered in the darkness as Christina sat alone at a desk in the room she'd assumed was her own. Maybe it was Draco's, she didn't recall. She'd opened the doors to the balcony, even though the man in the lobby had specifically told her not to. The air was stale as the house had been shut for months and the balcony faced the backyard anyway. She didn't think it was much of a risk and so she'd opened it.

The breeze was wonderful and so was the firelight. The candles were too dim, the night was chilled, and the man hadn't said anything about a fire, so she'd lit one. After all, the electricity wasn't working and she wanted to be comfortable as she composed her letter.

The paper was luxurious, for lack of a better word, and there were actual quills with which to write. Christina considered both with curiosity, but her eyes were drawn to the letterhead. She pulled the candle closer and studied the monogram of an M.

"Malfoy Family Stationary," she said aloud. "Someone always called it that." She thought it might have been Harry but that part of her mind was being stubborn. Another part, however, opened a door. "Draco Malfoy. That was his name." Everything about it felt right and Christina sighed. She couldn't wait until morning when she could search the house for clues to her past and to her identity. Surely, this house was full of them.

For now, she dipped the quill in the ink and turned her attention back to her letter. The raven lit on the edge of the desk and Christina smiled at the sight of it. "I was hoping you'd find me."

The raven cawed and looked to her, waiting.

"Are you really mine?" she asked it. "Or were you Draco's? You know, I remember reading about ravens back in school. They're supposed to be the escorts of evil spirits. How could you ever be that?"

The raven's beak tapped the parchment.

"Yes, I was just getting to that." Christina sighed. "This won't be the easiest letter I've ever had to write, but here goes."

_Harry,_

_I know I'm probably the last person you want to hear from, but I need to apologize. I deeply regret what I said to you. You told me about Sara in good faith. I used the knowledge against you, and out of spite of all things. I didn't mean it. Really, I didn't, but I have a feeling that doesn't matter much to you anymore. I understand if you hate me for it, but that's the thing. I don't want you to. I can't take back what I said or the way I acted, but I'll do my best to make it up to you if you'll let me. I didn't understand until your friends spoke their parting words, but I understand now. I have insulted the only friend I have. Lies or no lies, I want that friend back in the worst way. Harry, I don't want to be alone._

_I know you asked me not to return to the house on the hill, but I had no other choice. I have lost my purse, which contained the only means I had of getting a hotel room, the train home, or any other sort of shelter. I tried to sleep on the roof of the pizza shop but, even though it seems like yesterday in my mind, it is clear that I left that life behind a long time ago. I cried the whole time I was there, lying on cardboard under the ducts, feeling such pity for myself that I couldn't remain. Spending a night in jail would be preferable to that, and less humiliating._

_I appealed to the man in the lobby, who'd made it clear last time I was here that he had the password to get in. I had to promise to do something for him, but he gave it to me and here I am. I'm safe, I have a roof over my head, and everything's ok again. Except you. Please, allow me to apologize in person? Harry, please don't hate me for such a horrible mistake. I didn't understand._

_Your friend,_

_Christina_

Christina folded the letter, never realizing she should seal it, and left it on the desk for later. She'd written it, yes, but could not yet bring herself to send it. That would take far more courage than stringing the words together. Instead, she lay down on the bed and watched the flames until she drifted off.

* * *

"Professor, I think we should take a shortcut. We've wasted too much time going to Potter's office. I told you she wouldn't be there."

"Better to be certain before we brave the crowd at Slytherin Spirits. We could cut through Knockturn Alley. It's risky, but it'll save several minutes."

"Exactly what I was thinking." Draco fell silent as they left the office behind, listening to their damp footsteps echo between the buildings on the deserted street. A strange sight drew his attention. "Sir, look at that inebriated sot lying there in the bushes. Think it's Potter?"

"Probably just some drunk who wandered out of that alley over there. Too short to be Potter."

Draco shrugged and glanced around, uneasy with the surroundings. "It's rather quiet over this way. Where is everyone? I know there's a band playing on the other side, but there's usually someone about."

"Please wait while I consult my crystal ball."

"Very funny, Professor."

"Everything's closed over this way. We should meet more traffic the closer we get to The Leaky Cauldron. I suggest you take another drop or two of that hair altering potion and keep your voice down before you're recognized."

Draco slowed as they approached the alley Snape had spoken of and stopped just as they meant to pass it. "Let's turn in here. We can cut over to the main section of Knockturn Alley through this alleyway. I'm not thrilled about going through the dark parts of Knockturn Alley, but it seems safer than walking the main street of Diagon Alley right now, and faster." Draco led Snape through the dim expanse and into a narrow, badly kempt street at the other end. "Funny, this place is deserted as well."

"It's interesting. That pub over there is popular among Dark wizards, it appears to be open, though I hear no noise coming from inside. No one seems to be about. It's one of the prime Saturday night hangouts, if I remember correctly. It should be swarming with drunken morons right now. Something seems off, Draco. Keep to the shadows."

They walked in silence through the unlit street, neither speaking, until a tiny sound fluttered under the blanket of quiet. Draco looked up. "What's that? You hear it?"

"It sounds like a bird."

"Oh. It's just an owl."

"Even worse. _Potter's_ owl."

Hedwig flew into view and hovered before them. "Why's it acting so crazy?"

"It _is_ Potter's owl. She's probably a bit off in the head after so many years of his ownership."

"Maybe he told it to drive us away?" Draco waved Hedwig from his immediate vicinity. "Shoo, you flake! I swear it's barking mad! Come on, Professor. We're wasting time again. We have to find Sara."

Snape led Draco through the dark street, hiding inside their cloaks. Hedwig grabbed the edge of Snape's hood in her talons and tried to pull him toward the other side of the street. Snape shoved the persistent owl away in annoyance and she lit on a lamppost. Hedwig hooted, quiet at first, but she grew steadily louder as they made to pass a narrow alley on the other side. Hedwig became frantic. She flew to Snape, flew back to the entrance to the alley, hooted and flew back to Snape, only to repeat the process.

"If I didn't know any better, Draco, I'd think that owl wants me to follow it."

Hedwig gave an excited hoot as if to agree.

"Do you think it's wise? Potter could be leading us into a trap. After all, I'm sure he'd be in his glory if I weren't around to steal Sara from him." Draco's face turned ashen, hesitant. "Sir? What if it's trying to tell us Sara's in trouble?"

Snape came to a halt, indecisive and apprehensive. "I have to assume Potter's owl would be every bit as ridiculously heroic as her owner. Don't make any morbid assumptions, but your idea is possible. We will follow the bird but, if it seems she's leading us in circles, to Slytherin Spirits we go."

Draco breathed relief. Potter's owl seemed so upset and adamant that _not_ following it would be the wrong thing to do in his opinion. He was glad Snape had agreed. "Let's hurry, then. If this is just a bit of nonsense to keep us occupied and away from Sara then I prefer to be quick about it." He pulled his hood farther over his eyes, nervous about venturing into the darkest places in the heart of Knockturn Alley.

They encountered no one as they turned left down two forbidding and claustrophobic passages before traveling a long way down a winding right. Hedwig would fly ahead, rest on an eave, wait for them to catch up, and then fly away again. Snape's alert and piercing eyes darted around, expecting something unexpected. Draco followed close behind him, glancing over his shoulder every few feet, nervous and trembling with fear. Water dripping from the roofs echoed, loud and frightening, seeming to come from ahead and behind, to the left and right, and Draco swallowed the paranoia that threatened to seize him. One hand gripped Snape's cloak and held it fast. His other hand gripped his wand, the knuckles white. The trip felt like forever, but they had only traveled a few minutes out of their way.

A lock of his magically darkened hair tumbled from the confines of his cloak and Draco swallowed hard. His voice fell to a whisper. "Sir, I hear voices down that alley."

Hedwig had come to rest on the eave of the dilapidated shop on the corner of an alleyway. Knowing better than to hoot, she ruffled her feathers to gain their attention and then extended one wing, pointing the way.

Snape pushed himself and Draco against the wall at the corner. "Smart bird," he mumbled.

Draco strained against the arm that held him to the crumbling brick. "What's down there? Can you see?"

"Light spills from an open door on the left, just before a dead end. The voices come from within."

"Let's have a look, shall we?"

"Wait here. If you're seen you'll endanger us both."

"Sir! Don't leave me here by myself!"

A piercing female scream carried down the alley and Draco gasped, fearing for Sara, not knowing if it was her. The idea paralyzed him with terror and his heart set to racing.

Male voices drifted through the dimness. There was an eruption of laughter and noise from inside the room, but the two men were closer and rose above the din.

"Shut that blasted door, Sean!"

"But it's hotter'n hell in 'ere!"

"Wi' her screamin like that it could get us some unwanted attention!"

"Can't we jus' knock'er out? We got what we need, so why'r we sufferin that rackit anyways?"

The first man's voice dropped to a serious tone. "Orders weren't t' knock'er out, Sean. Soon as Bella's done wi' her, well, she won't be goin back t' Potter still breathin."

"Why'er we torturin'er for if we're s'posed t' be killin'er?"

"Why don't y'go ask?"

Sean didn't answer.

Another scream curled Draco's blood and he winced at the sound of it. Snape bolted down the alley and stopped dead at the open door, falling again flat against the wall. Draco was quick to follow.

A woman's voice they both knew well, that of Bellatrix Lestrange, called out to her companions. "Get rid of this. I'm expected and I've lingered too long already." Bellatrix's voice changed as she spoke to someone else. "Goodbye, dearie. I wish I could stay and play, but I have bigger things to do tonight than torture Potter's repulsive little playmates." Her voice rose again. "Dump her on Potter's doorstep. That should be a nice surprise." She laughed, high and insane. "Meet us when you're done. Make it quick."

Snape held his breath, expecting to be discovered – and by one of the fiercest witches he'd ever known – but a door slammed far away. She'd exited out the front of the shop and Snape breathed relief.

"Sir, how many are inside?"

"A handful, I'd guess. Five or six, judging from the voices we heard. There may be more. Draco, are you up to this? We have to be fast and we can't afford a mistake, nor any hesitation."

Draco took a deep breath. "That could have been Sara screaming, sir. You can count on me."

"When I say now, bolt through that door, swing left, and send your best immobilizer at anything that moves. Do not use the killing curse. You may accidentally hit the victim."

"I understand."

Snape took a slow, steadying breath. _"Now!"_

* * *

The tall blonde girl, who'd once dated Warf and still came to the wizarding market to get chai tea and read books, turned as she stepped out of The Leaky Cauldron with a large piece of white signage in her hands. Setting her cup on the step, she held the handwritten sign against the door and tacked it into place with a few pushpins she'd found in a map at Flourish & Blott's. When it was secure, she stepped back and read it, remembering the frantic, honest eyes of Hawthorn and the book, which had fallen in her wake. The tale of Cassandra, the seer whom no one believed.

The girl tucked her hair behind her right ear, lit a cigarette, and gave her sign a nervous smile, knowing Hawthorn had been telling the truth. Besides, how idiotic was it to ignore a prediction of doom? Where was the harm in going home a little early, even if it turned out to be nothing?

**NOTICE**

**Medical Quarantine**

Leaky Cauldron & Diagon Alley

-Temporarily Closed-

_By Order of the__Ministry of Magic_

Exhaling a great cloud of smoke, she lifted the near-empty cup of chai with a nervous hand and crossed the street to where she'd parked a compact black car. Glancing once over her shoulder, she gave the sign one last look before she fell onto the seat and drove away, hoping she'd done the right thing.

* * *

"Merlins, Harry, look at the bloody crowd! They're all the way out to the road!"

Harry strained to hear over the blasting rock music spilling out of the pub. "Huh? Oh, yeah! I think half the wizarding world is here!"

"What?!"

"If we get up, we'll lose our table," Harry yelled.

"Stay here, then! I'm going to find Fred and George and get another ale!"

Just as Ron stood, something lit up the sky and all heads turned upward to see it. Harry stood bolt upright, sending his heavy iron chair skidding backward. His breath caught in his throat as he beheld the Dark Mark, floating green in the sky above Diagon Alley. Something exploded down the street and a ball of fire rose high enough for everyone present to see. The crowd fell to chaos and panic. People were screaming, running, trying to hide and seeking cover.

The band played on.

Two ginger heads appeared nearby and Harry grabbed their arms.

"Fred! George! Get all the help you can and guard the entrance to the cul-de-sac! Cast some wards!"

Harry was about to issue instructions to Ron when he heard someone screaming his name loud enough to be heard over the band. His heart fell into his stomach the moment he heard her voice.

Sara broke through the crowd, glanced around, and then ran toward Harry and Ron, out of breath, her cloak billowing out behind her, unsteady on high heels, and terror-stricken. "HARRY!"

Harry caught her and gave her a quick hug. "Sara! I told you not to come here! You could be killed!"

"Hermione! I went to your office and the door was wide open, her candle was lit, but she's GONE!"

Harry's expression turned from concern to pure dread. "Where did you get that cloak!"

"On Ron's desk! Harry, there was a _red twilight!_ I saw it in your scrying mirror! Azkaban has been breached and it's EMPTY!"

"Sara, get out of here! As fast as you can!"

Another explosion rocked the night, closer, brighter, louder, and the screams around them amplified.

"Harry!"

"Go home and STAY THERE!" Harry kissed her as he ran toward Mystic's Cafe with the sounds of U2's _Sunday, Bloody Sunday_ at his back.

Mystic was badly startled when he threw open the door and started bellowing. "We're under attack! Mystic, get ready, but _WAIT FOR MY SIGNAL!"_

Sara hurried to the narrow entrance of the cul-de-sac, knowing the Death Eaters would have an easy time cornering the hundreds of people crammed into the courtyard and inside Slytherin Spirits, where the band was so loud no one even knew they were in danger. She could hear them singing along. _I can't close my eyes and make it go away. How long, how long must we sing this song? How long, how long?_

Harry ran past her and out of the cul-de-sac, on his way back to the office to alert the agents and find Hermione. As he ran, Diagon Alley, he noticed, was overrun by Death Eaters. Patrons battled them, stores burned, screams and curses flew and Harry ran faster. Spells missed him by inches. A few may have hit, he wasn't sure, but his need was so great they had no effect if they did.

The action was lesser near his office and Harry thought to take his sign down in one clumsy movement as he ran through the door, where he tossed the sign to the floor.

"HERMIONE!"

He was met with silence.

Searching was a waste of time. No one was there, so Harry ran back out and continued on, hoping to find her on her way back from The Leaky Cauldron or maybe battling a Death Eater.

People lay dead in the street. Smoke from the other end drifted and burned his throat as his fear escalated. Turning right at the end of his street, Harry noticed a crumpled figure on the side of the road and hurried toward it. The figure was familiar, unmoving, and panic ate away at the edges of his sanity. He dropped to his knees and rolled her over.

"No," he whispered. "No, not her! NOT HER!"

Tears rolled down his face as he pulled her into his lap and held her close. She was limp. She wasn't breathing.

Harry lowered his head, let his grief drip into her hair as he cradled her, sobbing and devastated. He'd forgotten about the battle, about the Death Eaters and the Dark Mark. He forgot about the concert and the cul-de-sac and Mystic's secret defense. He didn't hear the screams or feel the heat of the burning stores. He knew only her lifeless body as he held it and could feel only her loss. Nothing else existed. Harry stroked her hair as he kissed her and rocked her back and forth, trying to comfort her. Trying to comfort himself.

* * *

"George!" Sara shouted. "There are hundreds! We need help!"

"Everyone's too busy running! Just do your best!"

Fred shouted his encouragement around curses and counter-spells. "Didn't you defeat hundreds of Death Eaters in Romania? You can handle this!"

"I can't do that here! I can't use lightning or the wind! There are innocent people in the middle of everything! I can't even keep these wards up!"

George shouted back, the quaver in his voice betraying the fact that he was frightened and losing hope. "We _have_ to keep the wards up! We have no choice!"

Sara's voice took on a note of terror. "There are so many of us! Why is _no one_ helping?"

Fred gasped as something strong hit and dissolved the ward before him. He blocked a few curses and was quick to replace it. "They're scared!"

George agreed. "They're panicking!"

Sara turned furious. "Well so am I! But I'm still trying!"

A curse hit Sara's cloak, nearly pushing her through the ward and into the melee on the other side. George sidestepped and grabbed her as she stumbled.

"That came from behind!" Sara turned to see a slew of Death Eaters had breached the line of defense. "They're getting in! _George!"_

George grabbed two random wizards who'd made the mistake of running by. "You! Hold this line! Let this ward drop and I'll kill you myself! You! Help him!" He shoved the bewildered young men into place, but their perplexed expressions soon turned determined and set to task. George was satisfied.

Giving direct orders to specific people seemed to help bring a small sense of order – and reinforcement – to the line. Seeing the positive reaction from the "volunteers," Ron, Fred, and Sara, who were staggered a little too far apart to be effective, did the same. Soon, the line of defense stood shoulder to shoulder across the entrance to the cul-de-sac. Sara's panic subsided, but not much.

Ron was able to step back and began recruiting people to stand behind the line and put up ward after ward. Fred and George supervised the line, making sure no one ran away, and so Sara went to find out how at least a dozen Death Eaters had gotten into the cul-de-sac.

She grabbed a girl who ran without purpose or direction from one place to another, looking for a way out with wide, alarmed eyes. "I need you to do something so listen!" she shouted as she took hold of the girl's thin arms. "Get to that stage and tell the band we're under attack! They're still playing!"

The door was open, but so many people were packed inside with their backs to the opening - and the music was so loud - that even those two steps inside had no idea what was happening right behind them.

The moment Sara let go of the girl, she bolted. Sara watched her run toward the front, shove past the line, and through the wards. She was quick to fall. Sara's eyes closed as she watched, knowing the girl was dead, along with many others who'd been caught outside the cul-de-sac and now lay on the cobbles in lifeless heaps, crumpled, like rag dolls. A great many others battled the Death Eaters but they were outnumbered and doomed. Just like everyone inside the cul-de-sac. It was only a matter of time.

Something smashed, a man screamed and something heavy hit the ground behind her. Sara turned on her heel and came face to face with Warf, who held a broken beer bottle in his hand. A Death Eater lay bleeding at his feet.

"That was a close one, eh? I wouldn't stand around with your back to the bad guys, Sara. I only have so many beers left. That German guy drinks a lot."

Sara nearly collapsed with relief and gratitude. "Warf, get to the band. They need to know!"

The song drifting out of Slytherin Spirits bridged from "Sunday, Bloody Sunday" into "New Years Day" and Sara decided she had bigger problems than alerting the band. The number of Death Eaters had doubled in the few moments she'd been diverted. The cul-de-sac was absolute chaos. People were climbing onto the roofs, trying to escape. "GET DOWN!" she bellowed. "You'll fall to your deaths!"

No one listened. No one even heard. All anyone could hear was the sounds of the band as Lyman belted out the lyrics and the instruments threatened to drown him out.

_All is quiet on New Year's Day… A world in white gets underway… I want to be with you… Be with you night and day… Nothing changes on New Year's Day…_

There was a screaming mob outside Mystic's Café. The diner itself was packed full and more tried to press through the door. Mystic, Sara saw through the windows, stood with her employees on the lunch counter, using their wands in a desperate attempt to force the frantic crowd back out the door.

Another store blew up across from the cul-de-sac and Sara turned around again to see the great billowing flames leap toward the sky and spread to the neighboring shops. The orange glow cast an eerie light on the macabre scene before her and that's when she saw it.

_Under a blood red sky… A crowd has gathered in black and white… Arms entwined, the chosen few… The newspapers says, says… Say it's true it's true... And we can break through…_

Death Eaters streamed through the door of the shop on the corner, entering outside the ward, passing through, and exiting into the courtyard via a side door. Sara remembered LisaRene, the woman who had so graciously helped her with the lock on her shop and had shown such concern over Voldemort's ability to return. "They must have overpowered her to get through her shop! She could be hurt!" Sara realized. With that thought, Sara ran across the courtyard, skirting fallen witches and wizards, Dark and Light, and came to a halt only yards from the breach.

With a clear shot, Sara threw rapid-fire bolts of lightning, dropping every Death Eater who dared step through until they dared no more. "LISA!" she shouted. "Are you in there? Are you _hurt?"_

To Sara's surprise, Lisa stepped into the doorway, calm, whole, and dressed all in black. She met Sara's frightened eyes and gave her a cold smile.

Sara's panic edged toward terror as Lisa gave her a wink, tied a white mask over her eyes and stepped back into the darkness.

* * *

50


	22. Chapter 22: Green Jets of Light

**Part Three: The Hardest Part**

_**The **__**G**__**irl in the Tower 2: **_

_**Home By the Sea**_

_**Chapter 22: Green Jets of Light**_

I can't believe the news today  
I can't close my eyes and make it go away  
How long... How long must we sing this song?

Broken bottles under children's feet  
Bodies strewn across the dead end street

Sunday, Bloody Sunday

**From:** "Sunday, Bloody Sunday" **By:** U2

* * *

Draco had only cursed one small wizard in the time it took Snape to bring the other five down. He stood in awe for a moment, feeling inadequate and wondering how he'd even gotten out of school. "Well done, Professor. My three are taken care of as well."

Snape smirked at Draco's vain attempt to save face. "Indeed they are. Now help me with the girl."

"It isn't Sara!"

Snape sneered as they stood over the body on the floor. "You sound disappointed."

"Well, I'm glad it isn't Sara, but we risked our lives for no reason!"

"In case you haven't noticed, Draco, there is a young woman at your feet. I would hardly consider that to be _no reason._ Does it really matter who she is?"

Draco looked at her, lying still on the floor. Her clothes dirty and bloodstained. Tears leaked from a large black cloth, tied around her eyes with haste, leaving clean tracks on her dirty face. The knot at the back of her head was entwined with tufts of her hair.

"Take a look, sir. I know who it is and so do you. I'd know that bushy mess anyplace."

Snape did and issued a long sigh. He knelt beside her and laid a hand on her shoulder. She started shrieking at his touch. She flailed, trying in desperation to keep anyone near her away and then curled into the fetal position, wrapping her arms around her bloated stomach.

Snape was taken off guard, thinking her dead or unconscious, and fell over backward when she came to life, startled.

Draco grabbed her shoulder; his other hand he lay flat on her forehead. "It's Draco and Professor Snape!"

She was trembling and continued to shriek in absolute terror, curling up around her stomach until Draco's heart filled with compassion and he took a softer tone. "It's okay, Hermione. No one's going to hurt you."

Hermione broke down in violent sobs and something ached in Draco's stomach at the sound of it.

"Come here," he said and pulled her into his lap. "We're here to take you home. Everything's going to be fine."

Snape made to touch her and hesitated. "Miss Granger, I'm going to remove this blindfold. Do not be afraid. Your captors have been dispatched." He was careful not to pull her hair as he worked the haphazard knot free and pulled the cloth away.

Both stared in disbelief. Snape gasped in silence. _"What_ have they done to you?"

Hermione tried to respond. She still clung to her stomach and cried as Draco held her. _"B-B-B-Bellatrix!"_

"Come. Let's get her out of here." Snape hesitated. His expression turned grim as he examined her. "Look, Draco. Her leg is broken so badly the foot is turned around backward. There's no way she can walk. Can you carry her?"

"Of course."

Snape conjured a splint. "Brace yourself, Miss Granger."

She screamed as he grabbed her ankle and, as fast as he could manage, pulled and twisted it until the pieces of her leg snapped back into place. "The break is compound and has broken the skin. "Look, right here between the knee and the ankle. How barbaric! I can't even imagine how painful this must be. I'm amazed she's still conscious."

As Snape applied the splint, Draco was taking off his shoe and sock. From his toe, he removed the ring she'd sent for him the night he'd been sent back to Voldemort. Draco remembered its worth and thought it time he returned the favor. He slipped the ring onto her finger. "This should help with the pain."

Hermione quieted to an agonized whimper as Draco was quick to redress his foot.

Snape led the way back the way they'd come as Draco followed with Hermione. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her face into his cloak. Her tears were silent now and Draco was thankful she was able to remain quiet and still. They were in grave danger with every step they took and it seemed she knew it. He whispered against her hood as they hurried through the darkness. _"Not much farther."_

The return trip was just as uneventful, the streets and alleys just as empty, but it seemed to take half as long. Perhaps it was because they were practically running.

Just as they were about to emerge in Diagon Alley, onto the same street they'd walked earlier, Snape fell back at the corner and motioned to Draco, who stepped to the shadows and pushed Hermione between the wall and himself. "What is it, sir?"

"Everything's on fire and the street is overrun. There are duels every few yards." Snape hesitated. "You have to be kidding me."

"What?"

"Potter. He's carrying someone and walking right down the middle of the street. No one's cursing him. No one's even looking at him."

"Then I say we catch up with him. Pull our hoods down, sir. If we're recognized we'll be in trouble."

Snape yanked Draco's hood down to hide his eyes. He covered Hermione's face with a gentler hand. "Just the length of a city block left, Miss Granger. Potter is in sight. His office is just around the corner, it won't be long." He looked to Draco with concern. "She needs a doctor. I don't know how we'll manage one under these circumstances."

"We'll figure it out later, sir. Let's work on getting her inside at this point."

"You go first. I'll cover you. Walk fast, but don't run."

"I understand."

Draco expected to go sprawling with every step he took. It was unimaginable that they could simply walk through the middle of a battle unscathed but Potter, the wizarding world's largest target, had done it and then so could he. He held Hermione close, whispering reassurances and daring now and again to glance around at a scattered battle raging amid a thick blanket of smoke and the orange glow of the buildings that burned behind them. Hermione sensed their peril and her arms wrapped so tight around Draco's neck he was desperate to get her to safety. The fear he felt from her drove his feet to move faster. Never in his life had he felt any sort of sympathy or favor toward the girl he carried, but seeing a pregnant woman screaming and blindfolded on the floor of a filthy shop in the evil darkness of Knockturn Alley had changed all that. He would hate her again tomorrow but, for now, she was all he could think about.

Harry kicked the door of his shop and sent it crashing inward. It swung on its hinges and slammed into the wall with a loud, violent bang.

"Potter!" Draco moved faster, now only feet from the step.

Harry stopped with the girl in his arms, but did not turn around. "She's dead," he said, his voice shaky and emotional.

Draco was confused. The hair on the girl's head was brown and pulled back. It wasn't Sara he held, so why was he so upset? "Who is she?"

"She was brilliant," Harry answered. "She just got a full scholarship. She was going to be the next Minister of Magic."

Draco could hear that Harry was crying, on the verge of losing it, and he began to get an idea of whom the girl was.

"She was so beautiful. So intelligent." His voice cracked and wavered. "I _loved_ her."

"Harry..."

"I will find whoever did this and I'll kill him."

Snape pushed Draco onto the step and glanced at her lifeless face. "Potter, is this the girl who won the Witch Weekly Beauty Pageant?"

Harry said nothing, just turned and carried Mariah into his shop.

Draco and Snape followed him in. Snape closed and repaired the door.

Harry laid Mariah down on the floor in the corner and ignored the others as he took a throw from behind Hermione's desk and laid it over her.

"Potter. I know you're upset, but you need to pay attention. Granger's been hurt. The Death Eaters had her and she needs you now."

Harry turned then and saw Draco at last. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and took Hermione, eased her to the floor, and threw his arms around her.

Hermione choked her words as Harry kissed her and hugged her, fierce and protective, crying his relief with no reservation.

Draco turned away and lowered his head.

"Harry," she managed.

"I thought I'd never see you again! When Sara said you were gone…"

"The cloak… I took it off…"

"It doesn't matter. You're here now. You're safe."

"None of us are safe!" She broke down again, trying to talk around her tears. "Harry, they got the passwords! They… _they threatened the baby!_"

"It's okay. _Shhh…_ You did the right thing."

Snape came to life, furious and unbelieving. _"The right thing??_ How can you justify a single unborn life in exchange for hundreds! Do you realize what this means, Potter? They're about to release Voldemort!"

Harry shot Snape an acid glance. "I know what it means!"

"You're insane!"

"And what did you expect her to do?"

Snape paced the room. "I don't know!"

Draco turned and clasped his hands in front. His voice was quiet, soft. "If they'd threatened someone I love, sir, I would have given them the passwords, too."

Snape's voice thundered through the room and Hermione flinched. "That's madness! We're talking about Lord Voldemort!"

"Sir. Don't you remember when we found her? How scared she was?"

Snape calmed, humbled and resigned. He nodded, understanding.

"Harry? Take this blindfold off. We need to start undoing what I've done."

"But you're not wearing a…" Harry looked at her eyes for the first time and fell silent, his mouth hung open in shock and horror.

Snape sighed. "Yes, we should have warned you about that."

"What is it? Harry, why can't I see? Why is everyone so quiet?"

Hermione's eyes were white, as if covered with a thick, semi-transparent membrane or a cataract.

"Can you see anything at all?"

Hermione tested her eyes. "Just faint shadows. Outlines."

"I think someone tried to blind you. We'll get it fixed."

Draco stepped forward. "There's a war going on outside, Potter. Let her rest upstairs. Ward your shop and she'll be safe here. We have to go."

Harry's arms tightened around her. "I can't leave her here alone. She's hurt and… she's... _blind."_

Hermione's hand found and touched his face. "Who's dead, Harry? Tell me it isn't Sara."

Harry's voice caught and it was a long moment before he answered. "Mariah."

Hermione curled into him and hid her face. She trembled as she spoke, crying again and her voice resonated misery. "There was no better person."

"I know."

"Harry! She was… she was going to be so many things!"

"She already was."

"Who would… _how could…_ Harry, find them! You have to kill whoever hurt Mariah. I demand you kill every last one of them!"

"Someone has to stay with you."

"I'm fine! I'll stay with her, Harry. I won't let her be alone. You have to go. People need you!"

Harry sat in silence, holding her close, unsure of what to do.

Snape took Hermione from him and lifted her. "Potter, I am taking Miss Granger upstairs. When I return, I expect you to have collected your courage. Be ready."

Harry kissed Hermione and squeezed her hand. "You won't be alone for long. Stay still."

"Be careful, Harry. Look out for Ron!"

"You can count on it. Sir, bring my invisibility cloak from the footlocker in my room. We need to hurry if we're going."

Draco cleared his throat as Snape climbed the stairs, able to ask the burning question at long last. "Potter, _where is Sara?"_

* * *

The small owlry at the back of Mystic's flat above her café stirred with feathers and hoots as she hurried inside. She assumed the owls expected her to be carrying sacks of food to be delivered around Diagon Alley but, instead, she held three red envelopes in shaking hands. Her manner was harried and ungentle, which made the birds anxious. They became restless on their perches.

"Hootie, Lucifer and Imelda. You're my fastest and most reliable owls. I need you three to make me proud tonight. These Howlers are a matter of life and death."

Each owl came to rest on the large perch before her.

"Hootie. Take this straight to the Head Auror at the Ministry of Magic. If you feel he's corrupt, any Auror will do. Lucifer. Deliver this to Arthur and Molly Weasley. They must call the Order of the Phoenix so make your best time! Imelda. You will bring this to the Head Mediwizard on staff at St. Mungo's. We have injured. Do not linger."

By the time Mystic finished speaking, all three birds had taken flight.

She hurried back down the stairs, through the café and into the back room. Hauling them all out was almost as difficult as brewing them had been, but she managed to levitate the large cauldrons into the doorway one at a time. Trying multiples was too risky. She'd nearly dropped more than one and they couldn't afford to lose an ounce. After all, the battle had come so soon that she had little more than half of what Harry'd suggested.

Mystic used one of the cauldrons to prop the door open and started levitating the others into position around the courtyard. She was careful to place them where they weren't likely to be prematurely spilled. Under her café tables, beside potted plants, even on the low, peaked roofs of the porticos over the stoops. One thing of which she had to be certain was that they were evenly disbursed. She trembled with fear as she went about her work, watching drunken wizards fall by the dozens as the number of Death Eaters in the cul-de-sac had doubled.

"Miss? May I hide in your restaurant for a while? I... I don't know how to fight very well and... I'm... really scared. The fires are getting closer and the bad guys are everywhere!"

"The buildings in the cul-de-sac have all been warded against arson." Mystic looked up from her task of moving the last of the cauldrons and was startled to see a young boy of no more than thirteen standing before her. His face was dirty and tear-streaked. His wide brown eyes looked to her, frightened and desperate. His Hogwarts robe was torn at the shoulder and hung askew. "What are you doing here? Where are your parents?" Mystic grabbed the boy and yanked him hard aside, avoiding a nasty curse from a nasty Death Eater. She flicked her wand and sent the offender reeling.

"I came with my brother, miss. We were getting school supplies and he wanted to stay for the concert."

"Where is your brother!"

"Dead, miss. He's _dead!"_ The boy burst into violent tears, closing his eyes tight against the pain of saying it aloud.

Mystic drew him into a fierce hug, but couldn't comfort him as she'd like to. Another curse missed them by inches and she fell to the ground, taking him with her. "What is your name?"

"Charles Riley, miss."

"Listen to me, Charles. You have to be strong now. I know you've lost your brother but you must grieve for him later." She helped him back to his feet and kept her wand at the ready.

Charles nodded his understanding, sniffled and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

"I see your robes bear the crest of Gryffindor and Gryffindors are courageous. They're strong leaders, Charles, and that's what you need to be now. One doesn't leave his house behind when school is out."

Charles nodded again, but Mystic wasn't convinced.

"Do you see the people holding the line up there? The people standing in the face of overwhelming opposition, facing odds that would scare the knickers off the average wizard? _All Gryffindors._ Every one of them. Now do your part."

"Yes, miss. I want to help if I can. I don't know any wards, though."

"I want you to find every student under the age of seventeen in the next three minutes and bring them to me. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Now go!"

Mystic watched him run away and noticed something she hadn't noticed before. The band had stopped playing.

* * *

Sara's breath was quick and shallow with fear. She trembled as she backed into a tree and blocked curse after curse after curse, wondering when she would fumble and suffer the consequences. She was alone in her fight, the only person she could see who dared battle the Death Eaters. They were so frightening, so ruthless and causing so much destruction that it was easier to flee than to engage them. The problem was; the area was cramped, the enemy numbered about twenty at this point, and there were only so many places to hide. Frightened wizards had no choice but to run from place to place to get away from them and many fell crossing the expanse.

Sara wished she'd taken the cowardly path as well. She'd picked the foulest, nastiest, meanest enemy of the lot it seemed. She'd held her own to this point but, with this particular wizard, Sara was desperate for assistance, trying only to protect herself and any confidence she'd managed to hold onto had left her.

One thing was certain. She was losing.

Even his appearance scared her. The man before her was feral, disgusting, and more beast than human. His teeth were rotting and black, surrounded by gray, peeling lips, pulled back in a sinister sneer. His clothes were old, stained black, and ragged. His skin crawled with sores and was matted with filth. He was a prisoner of Azkaban, for many long years it seemed, and he was fighting for his freedom. For his _life._ Sara shrank before him. There was no winning this fight.

A familiar male voice bellowed from the side. _"Expelliarmus!"_

Sara's enemy burst into flames and ran, shrieking, from the vicinity.

Sara nearly collapsed with relief and burst into tears at the sight of help. "Seamus! Thank Merlin! I wouldn't have lasted ten more seconds!"

"You okay?"

"Yes, just... _terrified."_

"Stick with me. I'll look out for you."

"I can't do this anymore! They even know how to block my lightning! I'll find some way into my shop. Come with me, Seamus. We'll be safe until this is over."

Seamus grabbed Sara and fell to the ground to avoid a quick jet of green light and then knelt with her beside the relative safety of the tree. "You once tricked me into thinking I could make rum when I thought I couldn't. Why was I able to do it?"

"Because you had the ability all along."

"Think about that, Sara!"

"What does rum have to do with staying alive? We'll be killed if we stay here!"

"Because you can take every one of these foul gits! You're a bloody badass and no one in their right mind would challenge you! Sara! Toughen up before you get us both killed! You can do this!"

"They're too strong! They're _insane!"_

"You're stronger! Remember that!"

"Look out!" Sara fell back against the tree and knocked Seamus out of harm's way. "Something has to change, Seamus! Look around! Look at the bodies! All those innocent people!"

"Then I say we take back this cul-de-sac." He stood and offered his hand. "Would you do me the honor of having my back?"

Sara wiped her eyes and did her best to appear confident. "If you'll do me the honor of having mine."

Seamus helped her up and glanced at her shimmering ice-blue dress and high heels. "Sorry, I forgot my tux."

Somehow, Sara found it in her to smile. "Then I guess you should run home and change. I'll go with you."

Seamus' hand flew from his side. There was a flash, a scream, a greasy, manic woman flew through the air, and Seamus lowered his wand. "Shall we?"

Sara turned, pressed her back against Seamus' back, and took a deep, claming breath. He was right, she thought. She could do this. "We shall. After you."

The buddy system was a good idea and having someone right there behind her eased her paranoia. There was no need to grow eyes in the back of her head. Sara could relax now. She could focus.

Sara was blinded for a moment and felt a curse dissolve against the side of her cloak, too distracted by the flash of light to have blocked it. "Colin! Are you trying to get me killed?! Turn that flash off!"

"Sorry, Sara. Great picture, though!"

"Wait! Where do you think you're going?"

"To get a shot of the line of defense! With the three Weasley brothers in the center, I could get the front page!"

"Just stay inside the wards and don't – _Patrificus Totalis!_ – interfere!"

"Sure thing. This is great!"

"Be careful!"

"Don't worry, no one curses the press. _Watch out!"_

Sara turned and shielded Seamus with the cloak just in time and then dropped the assailant in his tracks. Sara watched in wonder as a big blond man in a blue cloak shouted insults in German and clobbered Death Eaters with a battered saxophone. When Sara glanced back, Colin was taking snapshots of the line of defense, just as he'd said. Sara cursed a trio of Death Eaters who'd catapulted onto the roof of Hawthorn's shop. When she looked back again, Colin had crossed the wards, left the relative safety of the cul-de-sac, and had ventured into the street.

A great blaze lit a long row of what were once stores. Walking, with this brilliant aura behind him, was the Dark Lord Voldemort, grinning, masked, and as real as the stones on which he walked.

"COLIN! COLIN GET BACK HERE! _HURRY!"_

It was too late. Colin drew the wrong attention when his flash lit up the night and Voldemort raised his wand. A moment later, Colin Creevey lay dead, his camera toppled to the ground beside him.

"Accio camera!"

Seamus spun around and saw Colin. "Bloody hell! He was just _taking pictures!_ Why would anyone _do_ that?!"

"That's not just anyone, Seamus." Sara slung the camera around her neck. "Colin died for this picture. The least I can do is make sure it hits the front page."

"He Who Must Not be Named! How could it be? I don't understand!"

"That's why they needed Hermione! They got the passwords!"

"Sara, things have changed. We need to get out of here. All of us!"

"_Where_ is Harry??"

* * *

"Potter, come on! Leave that nutcase right where she is. She's barking mad anyway!"

"She's not mad and I'm not leaving her. _Enervate!"_

Hawthorn started and sat up with a gasp. "Save yourselves!" she shouted. "Get out of... Harry? Is that you?"

"Someone cursed you, Hawthorn. The attack is on. Get up; we need to get back to the cul-de-sac. Walk with Snape. Draco and I will be under the cloak."

"_The cloak!_ She must wear the cloak! I dreamed of her, Potter. The safety of all depends on it! _Everything _depends on that cloak!"

"That part's over. The safety of all has been breached. Let's go."

Hawthorn leapt to her feet and fell in beside Snape. They'd barely gone a few paces when Draco got an idea.

"Wait! Professor, carry her! It's worked before and I have a feeling it will work again. I don't like you walking along like that. The fighting is getting worse the closer we get. You aren't safe!"

Snape looked at Hawthorn. "He's right. Act unconscious." With that, he scooped Hawthorn up and hurried down the street with her in his arms.

Harry and Draco followed, invisible.

As Draco predicted, no one bothered Snape - who appeared to be carrying an injured woman - and they were able to make it all the way to the front door of Hawthorn's shop without incident. She drew her wand, inconspicuous, and spoke the password. Once inside, Snape set Hawthorn back on her feet and Harry removed the invisibility cloak.

"Hawthorn, what are you doing? We have to get to the battle!"

"Just a moment, Potter." Hawthorn rummaged in a drawer and came out with a box. "We'll all wear these. I started making them after I had the first vision, but I only managed a few. She put a necklace around her own neck before handing one to Harry and Draco. The last she placed around Snape's neck herself. "The charms are hard to make, but serve a simple purpose. They will absorb a single Killing Curse. After that, they're just jewelry."

Draco was about to protest the wearing of an odd stone on a length of rawhide cord, thought a moment, and slipped it on.

Hawthorn led them to the side door and stopped with her hand on the knob. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Are we ready?"

All present drew their wands.

Hawthorn opened the door and stepped out into a scene so unbelievable she could only stand, dumbstruck, and look around. Her voice was a frightened whisper as she took in the dead, the screaming and the chaos. _"Holy shit."_

Harry left them there in the doorway. He'd spotted a copse of thick red hair, still guarding the entrance to the cul-de-sac. He found Neville on his way and grabbed his sleeve, dragging him along.

"Ron!"

"Bloody hell, Harry!" Ron turned terrified eyes to his friend for only a momentary glance. "We have to get out of here! It's You-Know-Who! The Death Eaters are everywhere and I can't do this anymore! We're all going to be killed!"

Harry turned to Neville, who was already wearing one of Hawthorn's necklaces. She'd only had two remaining when they'd left the shop and he wondered how she chose who received them. He glanced aside and saw her hand one to Fred, who thanked her and then handed it to George, annoyed. George shrugged and put it on.

"Neville, take Ron's place. Hold the wards!"

"You got it, Harry!"

"Ron, take this." He handed Ron the invisibility cloak. "Hermione was attacked. She's all right, but you need to get back to the office. I don't think she should be there alone."

"Blimey Harry! Is she... how..."

"She'll be fine, just go!"

Ron looked around. "I want to, I really want to, but my brothers, the battle!"

"She needs you more than we do."

"Right, mate. Good luck, then." Ron threw the cloak around his shoulders and was gone.

Harry moved into the cul-de-sac, cursing enemies as he went.

Draco still stood in the doorway, perspiring, swaying on his feet and too scared to move. Hawthorn approached him and lowered her voice.

"I thought it best to give this to you when you were alone." She handed him a second necklace. The charm that dangled from the end was a swirl of amber and green resin. "Don't be foolish. Put it on or I'll do it for you. You're a real idiot, Malfoy. You should have taken it before you left the house!"

"Don't tell anyone. I'll be fine."

"I'm not sure if you'll get through this in your condition. If you start having problems, get inside!" With that, Hawthorn was gone, picking a duel with the notoriously evil Walden Macnair, who didn't live to tell the tale.

Draco watched her for a long moment and then slipped the second necklace over his head.

* * *

George was showing the first signs of true panic as he turned nervous eyes to his brother. "Fred, I can't hold the ward much longer. There's more and more of them trying to break through! Look, there are crowds of them right before our eyes!"

"If only we'd thought to bring about four hundred Skiving Snack Boxes."

George lowered his voice. "This is serious! I don't think I could last even a few more minutes. We need more than just wards. We need to get these people out of here."

"George! You've _never_ been serious!"

Harry shot George a look of concern. "You're all exhausted. What we need are replacements."

George struggled to hold his ward, casting it again and again between words. "What are we doing here, Harry? We should be evacuating!"

Fred agreed. "I'll second that. I mean, it isn't as though the army of deranged lunatics will go away if we hold the wards until we all collapse. Are we expecting them to give up and go home?"

Harry sighed. "Don't look at me, I just got here! Besides, help should be on the way. Do we really want to surrender Diagon Alley?"

Neville shouted his response. "Bloody hell no!"

"I say we wait until we can't wait any longer."

"We need to get rid of the Death Eaters who've gotten through. Take a look over your shoulder, Harry. Bodies everywhere."

Fred sighed, his voice grave. "Mostly ours."

Harry looked, but what he saw was Sara throwing her arms around Draco. He faced front again, his anger and self-resentment boiling over. Harry started cursing Death Eaters with a vengeance, watching them fall under the Killing Curse on the other side of the wards.

George found a small store of energy, cursed a few himself, and smiled as he watched Harry. He leaned closer to Fred. "Speed-cursing, that's what _that_ is."

Fred grinned. "We should take bets on how many he can get in thirty seconds or less."

"I would if I thought I'd be around to pay out."

Across the courtyard, Mystic was leading a small group of students and young children into her café, where she did her best to calm them.

"You'll be just fine. You'll end up in a field outside London where wizards break down the trash and return it to nature. You'll find no one there at this hour. Stick together! Go somewhere safe! Stay away from the ministry!"

She and the boy, Charles, helped each child onto a stool. They stepped into a trashcan and disappeared.

Slyth had her own trashcan on the other side of the cul-de-sac, deep in the back of her pub, helping inebriated wizards to do the same. Too many drunks had already died.

Behind the line and near the entrance to Slytherin Spirits, Lyman was shaking with fear and battling two Death Eaters twice his size. He managed to stupefy one. Nexus smashed the other in the head with the seat of Warf's bench. Warf was near-by, sitting on the ground, occasionally singing, drinking beer, and cheering on the few who'd decided to fight. The first of Lyman's problems rose to his feet and sneered as he raised his wand. Lyman had lost his to a stray _Expelliarmus._ Seamus saw Lyman was unable to handle his adversary and came to the rescue, accidentally setting the reeking Death Eater on fire.

Seamus grinned at Lyman and shrugged. "Oops."

Warf watched as the burning man screeched and flailed. "What'r those bracelets they're all wearing? Never knew Death Eaters to accessorize, but the blue stones are quite nice." With no one paying attention, he went back to singing. _"IIIIIIII... will be with youuuu, again. IIIIIIIII... will be with youuu aaagaaaain... On New Years Day!"_

Slyth grabbed his arms, hauled him to his feet, and pulled him into the pub and to the trashcan.

Sara was shouting. "Seamus! Lisa's broken the wards on her door! She's letting them in!"

Seamus rushed back to Sara's side. She was frantic again, but still focused enough to do what she had to do. Seamus watched her back as she pelted them with lightning. Lisa, it seemed, had slipped into the chaos.

So many Death Eaters had rushed inside that those scared and formerly powerless wizards who'd cowered wherever they could were forced to fight or die. At last, the entire cul-de-sac was engaged in battle and a great roar of curses filled the chilled night air.

Neville, who was on the far right and had the best view of the street past Hawthorn's shop, started shouting. "Harry! Look! People are fleeing the Death Eaters! There must be thirty of them!"

Harry leaned as far forward as he could and saw the terrified horde, grouped tight together, with women and children protected in the center. "They were caught in the streets when the attack started! Why would they run this way instead of out?"

George thought a moment. "I'm sure 'out' was no longer an option."

"We have to let them in! It isn't safe here, either, but they stand a better chance behind these wards than they do outside them." Harry turned and shouted over his shoulder. "WE NEED SIX WIZARDS! FRONT AND CENTER! _NOW!!"_

Nexus came forth, grabbing collars on his way and all six arrived, whether they liked it or not.

Harry turned to the fearless German. "Innocent people coming through. We need to drop a ward long enough to let them in. On Fred's go, you six run through, cast wards in the street to shield them, and then get yourselves back in here."

Nexus gave him a single, emphatic nod and got the others in position.

Fred waited until the very last second. "RUN!" he shouted.

The group of frightened wizards and witches broke into a sprint.

Fred dropped his ward; Nexus and his five rushed out, the group rushed in, Nexus followed, and Fred flicked his wand. His ward didn't have time to take as a cunning and patient Death Eater stood by, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Fred crumpled to the ground.

George's ward dissolved.

The Death Eaters charged the opening, stampeding with a loud, fear-inducing cry of victory.

There was a single moment where Harry couldn't breathe. He knew Fred Weasley was dead but, in the next moment, he realized their wall of protection was gone.

Neville started shrieking. "NEXUS!"

Nexus understood at once and stopped the five he'd taken into the street before they could get far. Only four seconds had passed and the wards were back in place.

With six new people to hold the line, Harry fell to his knees beside Fred. His hand landed on George's shoulder, his eyes trained on a single charm that swung on a rawhide cord around George's neck. _The charm Hawthorn had given to Fred._ _The one that would have saved his life._ With this knowledge, Harry's eyes flew to Neville.

A tall, handsome man with a little girl at his side tapped Harry's arm. "Mr. Potter. Reinforcements led by Arthur Weasley have attacked the Dark lord's men from behind and they're pushing them this way. Prepare for a surge."

Harry could barely speak as his eyes moved back to Fred's lifeless face and George sobbed and held his brother's hand. Harry nodded his understanding. It was the only acknowledgement he could manage.

* * *

Neville tried to keep a steady hand as he watched the growing crowd of Death Eaters milling about, waiting in the street across. His ward wavered. "Harry! What are they doing? They're attaching a gadget to their masks!" His sudden anxiety seeped into his voice. "They're planning something!"

Harry swallowed hard. The moment was almost upon them. "It's a breathing device."

"Because of all the smoke?"

"Not quite."

Neville's heart started racing. "We have to get out of here!"

"Don't worry. We had a little inside information. However, those blue bracelets they're wearing... I don't know what they're for."

Snape tapped Harry's shoulder. "Potter, I brought you a replacement. You are needed elsewhere."

Harry held the ward as he stepped back and let the sheepish young girl take his place. "Thank you, Professor. Neville, you're in charge of the line."

"Um... okay." Neville looked at the intersection on the other side of the wards. There were now no more than three feet of clearance and a pile of bodies between the line and the enemy. "Harry? Would you mind sending Sara down if you see her? I wouldn't mind a little lightning at the ready."

"I'll see what I can do," Harry said, knowing the only place he'd be sending Sara was home.

Neville hesitated and his voice took a somber tone. "Harry? Where did they take Fred? I would've liked to have said goodbye."

"He and George are in Hawthorn's shop." Harry's face clouded and he was quick to turn away. He ran smack into Hawthorn.

"Out of my way, Potter. Someone's been waiting a long time to die and I won't keep him waiting even one more second."

Hawthorn's eyes blazed with rage and she was so adamant, so angry that Harry followed, afraid she might lose focus, determined to watch her back.

Hawthorn hit a Slytherin Harry barely recalled from one of his classes with a brutal dueling blast from behind. He slammed hard to the ground, touched the side of his head and brought away bloody fingers. She waited until he collected himself and turned to face her. Unlike the others, he was clean, groomed, and somewhat handsome.

"Oh! Hello there, Sybil! Come for a little o' what Tristan got, have you?"

"Not quite."

"Vengeance, is it?" The man laughed. "That's so very loyal of you. I'm touched."

"You killed the only person who ever cared about me."

"And so it was only right that you watched him die." An amused smile curled the corners of his mouth. "All traitors must die, after all." He raised his wand and waited.

"You're the traitor here, Jonah. He trusted you! You called him a friend!"

"Yeah, well, friends come and go, eh?"

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

Harry sighed. "And so does evil." He laid a hand on Hawthorn's shoulder.

Hawthorn stood there with a battle raging around her, with her arms limp at her sides, and burst into tears. Harry put his arms around her and held her as long as he dared. Mere moments.

Hawthorn pushed him away, wiped her eyes and set forth on a killing spree that brought a smile to Harry's face. Death Eaters fell by the numbers in her path and, although her fury transpired from her immense emotional pain, he knew they could use ten more of her.

Cursing his way toward the center of the courtyard, his thoughts turned to Sara. Harry could hear her shouted, frantic curses mingled with Seamus' voice and could see her small flashes of lightning. Harry was glad she'd paired with Seamus. Seamus would look out for her but it was Snape who brought him the most comfort. Snape, Harry hated to admit, was quick, brutal, and a fierce opponent. Knowing he would keep an eye on Sara set his mind at ease but knowing Sara was safe at home would bring him even greater peace. However, sending her home would have to wait. Harry fought his way, slowly, toward Mystic.

Hawthorn's wand slashed the air, leaving a trail of bodies in her wake as she cleared a furious path all the way to the back of the cul-de-sac until she ran out of people to kill. Looking around, her eyes narrowed as she found a familiar face. "Professor Snape."

He did his best to sneer. "Severus is adequate."

"I'm surprised you're still alive. Must be the charm I gave you."

"Perhaps my continued existence is due to my unequalled skill and cunning."

"Perhaps you underestimate my charms, jackass."

Snape tried not to smile at the implication. "Perhaps you underestimate my _skill,_ witch."

A Death Eater broke through the crowd, stumbling and holding an injured arm. Snape and Hawthorn dispatched him in unison. _"Avada Kedavra!"_

"I think I'll need a drink after this."

"As will I."

Hawthorn gave him a wink. "You buying?"

Snape gave her an appreciative nod. "After all the carnage I just saw you inflict? Deal. If we're still alive, that is."

Hawthorn saw something she couldn't ignore. "You'd better not die, then." She hurried away, pulling the rawhide cord from around her neck as she went, cursing the enemy as they crossed her path. There, near Sara's shop, was the little girl with the haunting eyes, standing alone, screaming for her father and crying.

She broke into a run, but could only make it a few feet before she was forced to defend herself. The urgency mounted. Her divining sense told her to get to that girl as fast as she could. Terror swept her as the necklace swung from her hand. She fought her way closer and closer until she was in earshot.

"Little girl! Put this on! Hurry!"

The girl turned and reached out her hand. She calmed when she saw Hawthorn, the kind, concerned woman from the street who'd tried to warn them earlier.

Hawthorn was close. It was only a few steps now, but then she heard the voice of LisaRene.

"Won't someone shut that kid up?! _Avada Kedavra!"_

A flash of green light erupted from the tip of LisaRene's wand, illuminating her malevolent grin and the Dark insanity of her expression. Hawthorn's eyes widened with panic as she lurched forward, reaching for the little girl, who turned to her with Tristan's pleading eyes, arms outstretched, desperate for protection. The jet of green light struck her hard in the chest and, with one last gasp, the little girl collapsed to the ground.

Hawthorn's breath stopped dead in her throat. The charm fell from her hand and she collapsed to her knees beside the ginger-haired girl who looked so much like Tristan. Hawthorn screamed and, for a moment, all of Diagon Alley turned their heads. The sound was pure agony.

Lisa's sinister grin brought a new darkness to her plain and otherwise wholesome expression. "My, my. Look what we have here. Hello again, Hawthorn." Lisa raised her wand.

Mystic flew through the door of her shop, wand in hand, arm outstretched and pointed at Lisa. _"AVADA KEDAVRA! AVADA KEDAVRA! AVADA KEDAVRA! AVADA KEDAVRA! AVADA KEDAVRA! AVADA KEDAVRA! AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

Draco caught her around the waist, grabbed her arm and lowered it. His voice was soothing and gentle. "Good job, Mystic, but I think she was dead the first time."

"She was going to kill Hawthorn! I _had_ to!"

Draco turned to see Hawthorn crumpled on her knees, sobbing over the body of a child. He turned troubled eyes back to Mystic. "Help me get them inside." Draco swooned on his feet, wiped the sweat from his brow and placed a leading hand on Mystic's back. He didn't think she'd be able to move on her own, but she came along at his urging.

Hawthorn was so upset that Mystic's eyes filled with tears as she tried to help lift the child. "Hawthorn," she said. "Let's get her out of here."

Hawthorn responded, though Draco could see she was so devastated she would be of little use in the battle. "Mystic, let her stay with the little girl."

Mystic nodded and led Hawthorn, who carried the dead girl, into the café.

Draco turned and sneered at the body of LisaRene.

He dragged Lisa down to the wards by the hair of her head, dropped her at the entrance and smiled at the heavy thud her head made as it hit the cobbles. Draco blasted her through the wards and into a small clearing in the intersection for all Death Eaters to see. "Hey!" he yelled. "Here's your baby-killing traitor! Take your trash with you when you leave!"

There was a collective gasp from the street and from those inside the cul-de-sac who were able to see. Draco saw Bellatrix rush forward to view the body with horror and rage but he didn't hang around. Again, he wiped his feverish brow and remembered Hawthorn's words as white spots erupted before his eyes. Through the haze, he could see Sara, still fighting back-to-back with Seamus Finnigan. He could see dead Death Eaters lying atop lifeless wizards on either side and falling onto the pile was a thought he couldn't bear to entertain. He stumbled forward. _If you have any trouble, get inside._ Draco intended to do just that.

"Malfoy!" Harry hurried forward, leaping over a body here and there as he watched Draco collapse. He didn't have much time. The surviving Death Eaters inside the cul-de-sac were affixing breathing masks over their mouths and noses. Harry fell to his knees beside Draco and laid a hand on his forehead. "You're burning up!"

Draco stirred and moaned.

"I'm sorry to do this to you, Malfoy, but I'm once again requiring you to extend your quota for Harry Potter rescues."

Draco tried to smile. His words were a raspy whisper. "Shove off, Potter."

Harry lifted Draco in his arms and rushed with him toward Mystic's Café. She was just emerging and held the door for him.

"Behind the counter, Harry. Get him out of sight."

Harry laid Draco on the floor below the cake displays and the pie tins. "Don't move," he told Draco. "I'll be back for you."

Mystic hovered above, wringing her hands. "Will he be okay?"

"Sara needs to get him home. He needs a potion is all. He wasn't cursed. He has... _allergies."_ Harry turned his gaze away from Draco and focused on Mystic. "They're about to use their weapon."

"Everything's in place. Just say the word."

"I think the word is minutes away."

"Yes, I saw the masks."

"Come on, we need to get rid of as many of them as we can."

Mystic followed him to the door, but hesitated when they reached it. "We're losing, Harry. Someone must have a Portkey. We could all join arms and..."

"Do you see them all pooled in the intersection out front? The Order of the Phoenix has attacked from the other side. The Aurors should be here by now and so should St. Mungo's. It's only a matter of time before they reach us. We can hold this cul-de-sac a while longer. Don't give up on me."

"Not a chance."

* * *

Snape backed into Seamus and Sara, scowling at the enemy. "Do you still have your Portkey?"

Sara tried to catch her breath, having been hard at battle for far too long. "Of course I do!"

"Then why haven't you used it?"

"Are you serious? Who do you think cursed that pile of Death Eaters? Believe me; I'd love to get the hell out of here!"

"They're about to do something and I'm not certain if the steps taken to avoid it will be adequate. I think you should collect Draco and leave."

"I'll leave when everyone else leaves. I'll leave when these people are safe!"

"You'll leave when I tell you to leave!"

"Sure thing, _Dad._ Oh wait, my father never spoke to me that way, so who do you think _you_ are?"

"Someone who cares for your wellbeing! _Go home,_ Sara!"

"Not a chance."

Harry turned where he stood and shouted, frantic, over the din. "Mystic! Now! _NOW!" _Harry nearly panicked as he saw the swarm of fog vials arch over the wards and prepare to drop like hundreds of tiny poison arrows. There wasn't a moment to spare. The cauldrons had to spill mere seconds before the Noctris hit or it would all be for nothing. If the Noctris hit first, every last one of them would drop to the ground in a deep sleep. If that happened, Harry was certain not one of them would ever wake up again. They would be at the mercy of the Death Eaters.

Mystic was quick with her spell, an obscure one Mariah had found that would cause the potion to spread and evenly coat the ground. It worked with a perfection for which they'd only dared hope.

The fog vials shattered in a muted tinkle of glass, spilling their contents to mix with the potion Mystic brewed. It was, of course, a recipe of Snape's – and it was pure genius. Sweet smelling, misty vapors rose through the London fog, relaxing all who breathed it, turning the Noctris to the advantage of the Light side and against those who meant to use it as a weapon.

Sara turned to Seamus as the fighting temporarily slowed. "Strange, isn't it? A moment ago I was about to collapse from fear and exhaustion, but now I'm calm, levelheaded. I feel good!"

"Me, too. I feel stronger. My mind is sharper. I'm not nervous anymore."

"I'm not afraid anymore, either." Sara took the Orb of Arassel from a pocket in her cloak and returned it to her finger. "Look, Seamus, everyone's so serene. The chaos, the screaming, it's gone."

Seamus looked around. The Death Eaters stood with their arms limp at their sides, wands forgotten as they glanced at people who should be slumped on the ground, who were instead renewed of confidence and almost smiling. "Look at them, Sara. They can't figure out what just happened."

Snape lowered his voice. "Don't let this moment go to waste." He lunged forward, throwing rapid-fire curses as the bewildered Death Eaters, many of whom fell, were taken off guard.

Seamus caught movement from the corner of his eye, but it was too late to do anything except yell. "Professor!"

The Killing Curse, one of many jets of green light now flashing, brilliant, around the cul-de-sac, hit Snape, knocking him to the ground.

Sara's eyes widened. _"Severus!"_

The crowd of Death Eaters on the other side of the wards rioted, both against the ineffectiveness of their secret weapon and also against the Order of the Phoenix, who could now be seen attacking from behind the large group, congregated in the intersection before the cul-de-sac.

"We're saved!" Neville was yelling. "The order is here! THE ORDER IS HERE!!"

Draco awoke as the sweet mist rolled into the café. He was soon on his feet, driven by some intuition he did not understand. He was clam, his mind clear, his fever unimportant as he made his way back into the quiet, almost still courtyard. Mystic cursed a Death Eater nearby and Draco made his way to her, just as he noticed another had raised his wand. Mystic, he saw, hadn't noticed.

"Get down!" he shouted and lunged at Mystic but it was too late. A flash of green light split the air and caught Draco as he threw himself on her, pulling her hard to the ground. He fell to the side as Mystic raised her wand and dispatched the threat, touched the bleeding gash the cobbles left in her forehead and finally looked on her savior. "Draco!"

Harry made his way back to the line and fell in beside Neville. "You okay?"

"I am now. I thought I was going to collapse a few times, but then that mist came around and I feel just fine!"

"It's a counter for Noctris. Mystic brewed it the other-

Three Death Eaters, running for their lives and with Nexus on their trail, plowed into Harry and Neville, who tumbled headfirst into the street. Their wards vanished and people were already coming to pull them back, but the mass of enemies before them noticed their vulnerability and were quick to aim their wands. The now commonplace jets of green light hit both Harry and Neville, who were thrown back behind the line. A raven-haired girl and her friend took up the wards.

"Severus, talk to me!"

"What exactly did you want me to say?" Snape opened his eyes and his heart melted at the sight of Sara's tears. "Don't worry, my dear. I'm not dead."

Mystic's loud, bellowing voice echoed through the serene crowd. "Draco Malfoy has survived the Killing Curse! _It's a miracle!"_

Snape smiled and lifted Hawthorn's charm, now black and useless. "If these are miracles, then I'm a twenty year old Brazilian woman with five bastard children and a pygmy goat."

Another shout issued from the entrance to the cul-de-sac. "They're alive! Harry and Neville are alive! He's lived through it twice! _Harry Potter is invincible!"_

Sara broke into a fit of giggles and helped Snape to his feet. "I think it's time we taught these creeps a lesson. There are only a dozen or so left. What do you say, Severus? Seamus?"

Seamus didn't answer. While Sara was busy with Snape, he'd taken to setting Death Eaters on fire and then using his wand to throw them through the wards and into their waiting companions outside. Sara noticed small fires within the gathering, evil sardines packed ever tighter by the advancement of the order on the other side. Death Eaters were now fleeing down the street to the left and right of the cul-de-sac. Straight ahead lay doom.

And then it was over. Every single Death Eater, alive or dead, blinked out of existence. The Dark Mark faded in the night sky.

* * *

St. Mungo's lent to the confusion as a blur of white robes bearing bold red crosses rushed in and conjured stretchers for the wounded and for the dead. In the middle of all this, Mystic noticed a tall, handsome man calling for his daughter. His spent, terrified voice reached her over the noise and her heart sank, knowing for whom he sought. With her head low, she headed into her café to find Hawthorn.

The Order of the Phoenix stood perplexed, as the enemy had disappeared _enmass_. Molly shook a stray tuft of ginger hair from her face as she looked around. "That's just like a Death Eater, you know! _Cowards!"_

Harry turned to Neville. "That's what the bracelets were for. They were Portkeys, activated at the same time so there would be no trace of them left here. Not even their dead!"

Neville gave a slow nod of understanding. "It doesn't figure, though. Why would they engage us in battle, set fire to Diagon Alley, and plan in advance to make such a swift and total exit?"

"My first guess is we're being set up. I have a bad feeling about this, Neville. Round up our people, we're getting out of here. Something bad's about to happen. You can bet on it."

Neville hadn't taken two steps when a virtual _army_ of Aurors arrived. They lined up before the entrance to the cul-de-sac, blocking any attempt at escape, and fell to silence. The large group parted and through the center walked a wild-eyed man Harry had never seen before. His equally wild gray hair stood up in tufts and winged out on the sides and, for a moment, Harry thought he was looking at Ludwig Von Beethoven. His nondescript robes frayed at the hem and seemed the perfect compliment to his unruly hair. His hands clasped behind his back as he strolled to the front of the gathering. Harry thought he could hear him humming a joyful tune.

The man said nothing for a long moment, only cast an accusatory gaze around the courtyard, from one battered wizard to the next, until it came to a stop on Harry.

"Hmph. _Potter._ I should have known you'd be behind this."

"Behind what? All I did was help keep the Death Eaters out!"

The man chuckled in disbelief. "What Death Eaters? I may be getting on in age, Potter, but I'm not blind, nor am I senile. All I see, far and wide, are you and your friends standing with wands in hand over a great many dead witches and wizards. We received a report of an attack in this area. Here we are, and here _you_ are as well. Seems rather cut and dried if you ask me."

"We were all at the pub, watching a concert and Voldemort's people attacked us! Azkaban has been breached!"

"_Voldemort's people!_ Interesting statement coming from someone who, just a few years ago, swore in front of a ministry hearing that Voldemort was dead."

"Well he isn't, okay?" Harry narrowed his eyes at his accuser. "Who are you, anyway?"

"Zachariah Bosworth. The Minister of Magic."

"Julian Smidgeon is the Minister of Magic!"

"I'm sure you're aware that Julian has abandoned his post."

"Taking leave when his life's in danger is hardly a resignation!"

"You seem... how shall I say... _overly informed_ of Smidgeon's disappearance, Potter. Perhaps you should be questioned further on the topic?" Bosworth raised his eyebrows in challenge.

"I'm as informed as you are concerned. I don't know anything about it aside from the obvious. And it _was_ obvious."

Hawthorn wiped her eyes as she looked to the tall, handsome man whose expression filled with agony, grief and regret as he accepted the limp body of his daughter.

His watery gaze locked on hers. "You tried to tell me," he choked through his tears. "This is all my fault. _I got her killed!_ I should have _listened_ to you!"

Hawthorn said nothing. The truth was, as much as she understood his devastation and his sense of loss, she agreed with him. She remembered his angry tone as he'd bellowed at her on the street; his strong arm shoving her away, his wand cursing her, his declaration of further harm if she came near him again. Yes, it was his own fault, but that didn't make for righteous vindication. Not this time.

"I'm sorry, sir. I did the best I could." With downcast eyes, Hawthorn hurried away from Mystic's comforting arm, leaving him to his grief, and made her way toward the front.

She watched as Neville Longbottom came to Harry's defense and other Gryffindors gathered behind him in support as the ugly man with the wild blue eyes tried to blame them for the battle.

Movement caught her eye and Hawthorn noticed a woman limping down the street, covered in soot, with disheveled hair and ragged, singed robes. She raised her arm and pointed at Hawthorn.

"YOU!" she shouted, drawing everyone's attention. "This is all your fault!"

Hawthorn rolled her eyes. "Don't you want to blame Harry? It's the going sport at the moment."

Harry smiled in spite of his predicament.

"It was her, Minister! She came into my shop at twilight, threatening to burn it down! Now _look_ at Diagon Alley! My business is in ashes! Whatever will I do for money? How will I live?" Madam Malkin broke down in tears, sobbing into an ashy handkerchief.

"I tried to warn you!" Hawthorn defended. "I told you to ward your shop! I didn't threaten anyone!"

Madam Malkin's voice broke, cracked and strained with emotion. "I have half a dozen witnesses, Minister."

Harry erupted with anger, unable to tolerate the absurd accusations. "She's a seer! She saw the attack and tried to warn everyone! How can you blame her for trying to help?"

The tall man with his sleeping daughter held tight in his arms came to stand beside Hawthorn. Tears ran freely down his face and he made no attempt to wipe them away. "What he says is true. This woman tried to warn us all. She tried to tell me to take my daughter out of here and now my daughter is dead. I should have listened to her. We all should have listened!"

Zachariah Bosworth took a long look at the limp child and his brow furrowed. He turned back to Hawthorn with fury in his eyes. "Get out or else, was it? Leave or die?"

"Pretty much, though not by _my_ hand."

The silent crowd of weary people erupted in a cloud of shouts in Hawthorn's defense.

"Quiet!" Bosworth yelled. He pointed a finger at Hawthorn. "Arrest her."

A loud, angry voice rose above the noise and stopped the Aurors in their tracks. "NO! You _WILL NOT_ arrest her!" Sara came forward with a pace that matched her fury, regardless of her ill history with Hawthorn. "I saw it, too. The Death Eaters, the fires, Azkaban, all of it! You arrest her and I'll make a fool of the ministry myself!"

Bosworth sighed his impatience. "Mrs. Potter, we've been through this already." He chuckled as if she were feeble of mind. "There are no Death Eaters, not even a trace of one. You have dead and wounded lying about, and so it stands to reason they would, too. There is absolutely no proof of Death Eater activity other than the word of the accused, which is every last one of you. Diagon Alley, the treasure of our community, lay in ruins. Innocent people are dead and the menace of the wizarding world, Harry Potter, stands at the forefront.

"To make matters even clearer, Mrs. Potter, you're wanted for questioning in the disappearance of a fugitive and, as if that isn't incriminating enough; you now come to the defense of a known drunk who claims to hear voices. _Interesting company you keep. _I look around me now and see only what she promised, death and fire, and you question my authority? As I recall, you also swore to the Wisengamut that the Dark lord was no more. You're a liar and a criminal and so your word means nothing to me. If you weren't who you are you'd be in prison right now so consider yourself heard – _and dismissed!"_

The crowd bellowed, angry and discontent.

Bosworth raised his voice so all could hear. "Do every last one of you defend the accused? Do you stand together?"

The crowd answered, loud and clear.

"Well then you're all a bunch of liars and so you're ALL under arrest!"

Sara ignored her dismissal. "And what if there _was_ proof? How would you, the new minister, appear to the public then? When the entire wizarding world knew you'd arrested the good guys?"

"Does this constant interruption never cease?!! There is no proof so stand aside!"

Sara lifted the camera around her neck and then let it drop again. "Ah, but there is and every newspaper I can find is going to print it."

Something changed in Bosworth's countenance that made Sara think he may have been planning to arrest them before he'd even arrived. Thankfully, she had Colin's monkey wrench to toss into the middle of _that_ plan.

"You were seriously taking pictures while supposedly being attacked by Death Eaters? Why does that sound so improbable?"

Seamus, at some point, had come to stand behind Harry and spoke up. "She wasn't taking pictures." He pointed at the body of Colin Creevey, lying alone in the middle of the street. "He was."

Sara's breath hitched, remembering how she'd watched Colin die. "He was killed by Voldemort himself. Colin had just taken a picture of him with the buildings burning behind him. He said..." Sara took a deep breath and tried to keep from breaking down in tears. "He said, _nobody curses the press._ And then he died."

Seamus laid a hand on her shoulder, seeing her struggle with her emotions and took ever the explaining. "Colin died for his picture, sir, and so we wanted to make sure that picture got where Colin intended it to go. The front page of _The_ _Daily Prophet."_

Harry, who had been quiet until now, turned to Sara. "Colin? He's dead? Little Colin Creevey? He..." Harry took three quick steps and threw his arms around Sara, who burst into tears, unable to hold them back any longer. The moment was short-lived.

"Hand over that camera."

Sara pulled away from Harry. "I hardly think so. You'll see Colin's photographs just as soon as they get where they're going. As the _acting_ Minister of Magic, sir, I expect you would follow procedure and actually investigate before taking any unwarranted and foolish steps. You'll have the proof you need to exonerate these people within hours."

"That's not good enough."

Harry touched her hand and turned away, back to Bosworth, whom he regarded with angry distrust. "The ministry is corrupt. Everyone knows it. Whether or not _you're_ corrupt remains to be seen. So far, I'd have to say it isn't very promising. We're exhausted, we've all had a really bad night, and so we're all going home. As Sara said, you'll get your proof soon enough."

"Yeah," Neville yelled. "So stop harassing the victims and try doing your job."

Harry leaned to Sara's ear. "Get Malfoy out of here."

"But, Harry! How will I find you?"

"Snape."

Sara gave him a brief hug, kissed his cheek and slipped back into the crowd, bringing Hawthorn with her.

Hawthorn pulled her arm away when they reached the back of the courtyard. "Hey, thanks for trying. All you did was rile him up but I did appreciate it, Barbie."

"The truth is the truth, is it not? I can't see you go to Azkaban for Divination." Sara turned away and found whom she was looking for, hiding behind a tree near Mystic's Café. "Severus! Draco!"

Snape peered around the tree at the front of the gathering. "Sara, they're taking names. If I'm seen here, they'll be certain to remove me from Hogwarts. We need to leave and I suggest we do it immediately. Draco will be arrested on sight."

Sara looked to Draco, sitting on the ground with his back against the trunk. His eyes were closed and his fever apparent. "Draco! Merlins, Severus, he's sick!"

"Yes, and so time is of the essence. Hawthorn." Snape turned his eyes to her. "I believe I made you a promise. Perhaps you'd like to collect now? I have the sneaky suspicion that if you hang around you'll end up in Azkaban."

"Wherever you're going, it has to be better than here. At least you'd better hope it is."

Sara crouched down, drew Draco's arm around her shoulders and put her own around his waist. "Stand up now. I've got you. You'll be in bed soon and I'll get you the remedy."

Mystic spoke from behind and startled Sara. "He saved me, you know. He was so sick I didn't even think he could move, but he came running out of my shop and I'd be dead now if it wasn't for him." Mystic moved forward and kissed his cheek. "Thank you," she said. "And I want you to know, Draco, that at Mystic's Café, you get free food for life. I hope you feel better." Mystic turned to Sara. "Send an owl if you ever want to drop in. I'll make sure you're safe while you're here."

Sara smiled. "That would be nice, thanks. It's nice to see you. I'm glad you got through this okay."

Mystic hugged Hawthorn. "Thank Merlin they didn't arrest you. I had my wand out just in case they tried."

Hawthorn smiled. "Bloody wankers."

"Keep in touch."

"I will. See you later."

Sara, Draco, Snape, and Hawthorn disappeared with a Portkey.

Mystic hurried to the front where Harry stood with Neville, Seamus and most of the Weasley family. She went straight to Harry's ear. "They're gone."

Harry sighed relief. "Good. They're taking everyone's name. It would have been only a few minutes before they found Draco."

"What do we do now?"

"We get the hell out of here. This is just for show. They aren't done with us. He's as corrupt as the rest of them, that Bosworth."

"I'm going with you."

"You aren't a suspect. You have a business in this cul-de-sac. Stay here. At least for now."

"What will I do if there's trouble?"

"I'll contact you soon."

Harry smiled as Mystic went inside and locked the glass doors of her shop.

When he turned back, George had brought Fred back into the street and his family was gathered around, sobbing and crying on their knees around Fred's body. Harry felt tears sting his eyes, felt them slide down his face, and he went to join them.

* * *

SteveD3's expression was grim as he shook Harry's hand. "They let you walk away, but you're to be arrested on sight, Potter. All of you, as well as many of the others whose names are on that list."

Swan stepped forward. "Speaking of which, all their assets were frozen by the ministry, supposedly to hinder any attempts at another attack. You have no money, Potter. None of you do. Your houses are under ministry guard. They expect you to stay here and that is why you must leave at once. You aren't safe as long as you're in public view."

Steve handed Harry a black leather bag. "Inside you'll find a good store of food and a small store of money. I'm still removing the tracking spells from a tent I lifted from the ministry, so you'll have to make due until we meet tomorrow morning. Swan found a book on magical eye injuries that may or may not help, but it's best to wait before seeking medical assistance at St. Mungo's."

Ron's chair fell on four feet with a bang. "Why? Why shouldn't we take Hermione to the hospital? She's blind for Merlin's sake!"

Steve sighed as he decided how best to explain it. "The medics healed her other injuries but she needs special attention for her eyes. That will require her to remain there at least overnight and you can't wait that long."

Swan cleared his throat and gave Steve a look that said he should continue.

Steve began again with hesitance. "We've gotten word the Death Eaters plan to attack St. Mungo's either tonight or within the next few days. The hospital has been alerted and those who could safely be discharged are being sent home, but others need to remain. We have a plan in place to protect them but going there anytime soon is a dangerous and foolish idea. She can be seen when circumstances afford a little more security."

Hermione's voice was small, afraid, yet reassuring when she spoke. "He's right, Ron. I'd rather be blind than dead. Or back with the Death Eaters. We have someone other than ourselves to think about. We can't place the baby in danger."

"Well said, Miss Granger."

"She's Mrs. Weasley!"

"Calm down, Ron. They mean well."

Swan went to her and pulled the blanket back into her lap, which had been slipping to the floor. "That we do."

Harry went up the stairs to his flat and packed some things into the box Sara had sent so long ago. Stopping to look at the picture with solemn eyes, Harry reflected on this loss before wrapping it again in his old green sweater. He would keep this picture close to him, no matter where he ended up.

It weighed a ton, but there was no way he could leave behind the silver tea service Mariah had given him as a housewarming gift. Harry choked back overwhelming emotion as he wrapped each piece in newsprint, remembering the bright smile with which she'd greeted him that day. He remembered the pleasure of her company, so warm and carefree and uncomplicated. He remembered the fun they'd had shopping for his flat and smiled at the zebra striped armchair she'd begged him to buy. When this was all over, he thought, he would go back and get that chair and he would think of her every time he looked at it.

His eye caught on a bit of the society section and his smile faded as he read the gossip about him dating Mariah. They hadn't been dating, far from it, but they had been close. He and Mariah had clicked from the moment they'd met, it was amicable, and he would have done just about anything for her. Harry crumpled the page and threw it across the room.

With his tea set, a few other cherished items, blankets, a few books, and some things that may or may not come in handy, Harry descended to the office and announced they were ready to go.

Ron helped Hermione to stand and wrapped the small blanket around her.

"I'm ready, Ron, Harry. Let's get out of here before it's too late."

Steve and Swan shook each of their hands. "Good luck. We'll meet again in the morning."

A tapping at the door drew all attention and no one breathed for a long moment.

"It's a bird," Hermione said. "It's probably Hedwig, Harry, let her in."

Steve cracked the door but, instead of Hedwig, a large black bird flew in and tossed a letter at Harry. "It's Draco's raven. This is from Christina."

Ron grew angry. "You've got to be kidding! After what she said to you? She's got a lot of nerve!"

Harry stared at the letter for a long time before he finally made his decision. "She wanted me out of her life and so I'm out of it." Harry laid the unopened letter on his desk and turned troubled eyes away. "Let's go."

As everyone headed toward the door, Swan took the letter and slipped it into his pocket. No one noticed as Harry locked his office, probably for the last time.

77


End file.
